


Composure

by moonlitsmores



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Akuma Attack, Akuma Battle, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, Post-Season 2, Theatre, Time Travel, Unhappy Ending, no beta we die like men, pre-season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitsmores/pseuds/moonlitsmores
Summary: Keeping her composure with a ticking time bomb in tow might not be such a piece of cake. Especially when it's presence as a menace might not be known until it's too late.Ladybug's Miraculous has a new enhancement--time travel. She was given this new power to juggle around along with everything else.It's said often that silence speaks the truth. So what happens when you are left alone, left prey to its hungry jaws? It keeps you up. It keeps you thinking. It keeps surging through the threads of your mind and tearing it apart from the inside out and sewing it back together. All it takes is a bit of silence.And Marinette went through a whole load of it.She tried to keep her composure, she really did (or at least, that's what she kept saying to herself in the dead hours of the night when time was intermittent)--but it's exactly what she lost.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Lila Rossi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	1. I Can’t Turn Back Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I initially posted this on Wattpad under another name, but the whole fic isn't up yet. I'll be posting the whole thing here instead, since it is finished. I wrote it after season 2 finished and before season 3 came out, so Viperion didn't exist yet. I apologize for the wordiness you'll encounter, but I do miss playing with language occasionally like I did back then.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vital info from this chapter:  
> Marinette gets a timepiece from Master Fu that allows her to travel through time. It was sent to her along with a note from like thirty years ago. The note said "macaron."  
> (The entire story was written before Season 3 came out, so there was no time-traveling in the show yet.)
> 
> Feel free to skip this chapter. It's long-winded compared to the rest.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…_

The tiny pocket watch ticked idly, Marinette could hear each second pass by as she held it up to her ear. It was red, speckled by the tiny black dots that splayed across its cold, smooth surface. It was a perfect match to the pair of earrings that sat on her ears, waiting to be used.

She laid on the chaise, curled to the side on top of the pink cushion. The silky-soft surface of the fabric was flush against her cheek.

Marinette's room was huge; it two stories high with a ladder connecting the pair, but the second floor was only large enough to fit her rosy bed. It was rosy like the paint that coated her walls and the dye that stained the fabric in the laced rug that lay underneath the lounge.  
On one side of the ladder stood a mannequin; on the other a long desk, which was adorned with miniature dressers, a computer, and bookshelves of books and trinkets. Beside it a small shoji screen of green propped on top of a beam blocked the view of a fuchsia vanity.

Her eyes focused, and the digital clock displayed in the corner of her computer screen read _5:00 PM_. School was let out nearly an hour ago, and the homework that had been assigned that day was relatively easy. Being the intelligent girl she was, she worked diligently at her desk, scribbling swiftly as the sweet smell of ink wafted from her pen and paper. The task had been completed in a matter of fifteen minutes, and she mentally checked it off of her to-do list.

She turned onto her back.

The ceiling loomed high above her head, and she seemed to stare right past it as she spaced out. The gears of Marinette's mind wound backwards in time as she recalled past events, right up until she stumbled upon a memory lingering from a few months ago. It was barely hanging on by a thread, which only strengthened as she delved into it's reminiscence.

\--

Out on the streets of Paris the winter air was tainted by the frigid temperatures, but inside the Dupain-Cheng bakery lingered a warmth that mingled with the tantalizing scents of freshly baked pastries. On the second floor, Marinette was sketching the beginnings of a brand new design for some sort of outfit, while her kwami slept soundly in her own little nook. She wasn't sure what it was going to be—all she had gotten down so far was a piece of the decoration. It was going to be the whole focus of the article, whether it was a hat, a dress, a pair of shoes, or something entirely different. She stopped to ponder what it could be, and was interrupted abruptly when her phone rang. 

_Oh oh oh, life’s got me spinning round_

_oh oh oh, my feet are off the ground_

_oh oh oh—_

The ring tone was loud and unexpected, and she flinched away. Her eyes scanned the seven-inch screen for the caller ID, but she was surprised to find that it was from an anonymous caller.

_—and when the sun goes down, you better hang around!_

_It's Ladybug, jumping abo—_

_Beep._

She answered the call, tapping the green icon floating on the bottom right side of the screen and raising the phone cautiously to her ear.

“Hello?” Marinette said. Her voice wavered with unsurety.

“Hello,” the voice answered. It sounded hoarse.

“Um,” she continued, still unsure of what to do. “Who are you?”

“I'm sorry. Excuse me for not identifying myself sooner,” the man replied. “I'm Master Fu.” Marinette’s eyes widened. It was the one who had given her hers and Chat Noir’s Miraculous. He seemed so familiar, it was almost as if he always kept a watchful eye over her and her partner whenever they fought together. She shook that thought out of her head.

“Oh, hi! Why did you call?”

“I must speak with you as soon as possible. It regards crucial matters.” He sounded worried.

“I’ll come right away.” Her face contorted into a grim expression. Marinette pulled on a cozy pair of boots and reached for her tiny pink pouch, which was lying on the desk beside her sketchbook. “Tikki!” She prodded her little friend’s forehead with an index finger. Tikki awoke from her slumber and flew into the air.

“What is it, Marinette?” the small kwami asked. She rubbed her heavily-lidded eyes sleepily.

“Master Fu called. He wants to talk. Apparently it's really important.” She disentangled the clasp on the bag and Tikki flew in, right before it was shut once more.

The sound of her footsteps was almost nonexistent as she creeped down the stairs, making sure not to notify her parents as she carefully maneuvered her way out of the bakery. Marinette slipped out the door, brushing her fingers across the edge just as her mom turned her head towards the entrance.

Her mother hummed, narrowing her eyes as the door shut. She looked around and noted that none of the customers had left, and there was a long pause before her shoulders shrugged. A man, furious, pushed past the girl and stormed into the bakery. His hand gripped the rod of a classic balance scale.

Marinette walked quickly, breaking into a jog as soon as the bakery was out of earshot. After traveling quite a ways, she rounded a corner sharply and was met with a flash of blinding green light before crashing into somebody. She fell backwards from the impact and landed on her bum. Her breath shot out in a cloud of fog as she huffed. The icy state of the pavement didn't exactly help her keep her balance.

“Woah,” the person exclaimed. “Marinette, why are you in such a hurry?”

She glanced up and began to blush furiously. His eyebrows were furrowed in genuine concern, and the emerald eyes glimmering kindly underneath them stared down at her face. He offered a hand.

“Need help getting back up?” Adrien said through a smile.

“Um, uh, heheh, um-sure?” she stuttered, scratching the back of her head nervously before lifting a hand of her own.

He laughed softly at her reaction and helped her up off the ground. The sound of it tickled her ears and filled her with delight.

“So, where were you headed? Looks urgent.” Her eyes widened. Shoot. She was like an open book around him, she swore.

“Oh, nothing,” she said through gritted teeth, now faking a smile as she remembered once again where she had to be. _Just act natural. Maybe he won't suspect anything_. He narrowed his eyes. _Ok, he’s suspicious. Plan B people, plan B!_

“Um, uh… I was just heading to drop off a small package! Yeah!”

“Want me to come with yo-”

“Gotta go! See ya later, Adrien!” She ran for it.

Adrien watched her leave and shook his head, still smiling. He then sighed and strolled away in the other direction, minding his own business and whistling a tune casually.

Marinette’s speed slackened as she approached her destination. She had slowed to a walk by the time she’d arrived at the clinic. There were muffled voices materializing from inside.

“She isn't ready!” a small voice exclaimed.

“Yes, I know, but it is time. We have held this off for too long already, and it has come to the point where we can no longer postpone it!” the other one explained. It sounded like Master Fu. Then who’s the other person? Marinette knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but her curiosity got the best of her when she stopped herself in the middle of reaching for the handle and put an ear to the door.

“If you must. However, be vague about it,” they sighed, “because she must find out it's true purpose on her own.” Marinette’s eyebrows knitted themselves together in confusion. _Just who were they talking about?_

“That is an excellent point, Wayzz. I’ll be careful to do that when speaking with her. This is a time where the lion must know when it has reached its limit, and that it must approach its challenge one step at a time.” She peered through the keyhole, and her eyes widened. Master Fu was talking to a small green creature, who she assumed was Wayzz. Was that his kwami? Her eyebrows furrowed even further before she realized that yes, it was his kwami, and that he had introduced him to her when he’d explained everything regarding her miraculous. But then again, who were they talking about? She put her eye closer to the lock on the door.

“Marinette was an outstanding choice for the earrings, though. I'm sure she’ll handle the task. I don't know why I began doubting her abilities,” Wayzz said before mumbling, “I just have this premonition of some sort of imminent danger.”

It didn't take a while for this to process in Marinette’s mind before she gasped aloud. _They’re talking about me._ She put a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise, but it was too late.

Their heads were turned towards the door.

“Speaking of which,” there was a pause before Master Fu broke the silence, still staring at the door, “she should be here by now.” It was as if he was looking straight at her. “Wayzz, why don't you go take a peek through the keyhole?”

She stumbled backwards, trying to get away before he could catch her eavesdropping, and ended up landing flat on her bum for the second time that day, Marinette noted irritably. Her heart hammered in her chest as she sat there, stunned from the fall. She scooched away from the door just as she caught a glimpse of an eye peering through where she had just been snooping. A flash of guilt swept through her mind. _That was rude. I shouldn't have done that. Well, I can't change the past now._ All she could do at this point was hope to God that they didn't see her, although she was pretty sure that they had. _I have to stop doubting myself,_ Marinette thought, before shaking those thoughts out of her head. _If they ask questions, just deny everything and look clueless._ She shook her head once more. _No. Own up to it._ A few scenarios played out in her mind. _But only if they ask._ She hung her head in shame, her teeth bared as she grinned sheepishly before picking herself back up off the ground and tiptoeing backwards.

Her boots thudded against the concrete in a seemingly never-ending rhythm as she pretended to only just arrive. She walked at a normal pace as she approached the door, then knocked thrice politely.

The handle clicked and there was Master Fu, holding it open.

“Hi. You called earlier. It sounded urgent. I came here as fast as I could.” She offered a fake smile.

“Oh, hello Marinette. Please, come in.” He ushered her inside, but she crossed the threshold hesitantly.

“Wayzz, if you wouldn't mind grabbing the parcel for me.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” The little kwami sent a glare in her direction before flying off. Marinette grinned sheepishly again. _He saw me, didn't he?_ She had to stop herself from hanging her head in shame once more.

Master Fu gestured towards the mat on the floor, and both sat down across from each other, legs crossed. She shifted uncomfortably as his eyes followed her movements.

Wayzz flew back into the room and dropped a particularly hurriedly-wrapped parcel in his master’s outstretched hands then whizzed back into his little match box. He settled down and narrowed his eyes at her before turning around and falling asleep.

“Are you finished distracting yourself, Marinette? This is quite urgent, as you mentioned yourself not so long ago.” She froze and faltered before turning her head around.

“Oh, um, yes, I apologize. Uh, may I ask what the package is for?” She pointed an index finger towards it.

“This is something I was given a few decades ago. It was sent to you from someone I know. I am sure you know of them as well,” Master Fu explained.

 _Wait. A package? Sent from before I was born?_ She tilted her head. _Th_ _at isn’t possible. How could someone have known who I am (let alone send a package to me) before I was even alive?_ Marinette was taken aback. Of course, there was one possible way… The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she shuddered. No. That wasn’t-- it couldn’t be--possible… Right?

 _“_ After waiting many years, I think it is time for you to open it,” he said before setting the parcel in front of her.

Marinette lifted it from the mat and tugged on the string that enveloped it, watching the little bow unravel. The paper crackled as it was unfolded, revealing a small green disk littered with a complex maze of intertwining wires. It appeared to be a circuit board. Lying next to it was a folded piece of parchment. It was yellowed, and some of the ink had seeped through to the other side. She removed it from its place and flipped it around, only to spot a single word scribbled upon it; “macaroon”. Confused, she stuffed it in her pocket for later.

“Tikki, you know what to do.” Master Fu said before hoisting himself up off the mat and heading to the other side of the room. The kwami began to squeeze herself out of the coin purse, and rocketed out once Marinette unclasped it.

“Marinette,” Tiki said, “you’re going to have to transform.”

“Oh, um, uh, okay?” There was a short-lived silence before her famous catch-phrase echoed off the walls. “Tiki, spots on!”

A blinding pink light flashed, illuminating the room. When it faded, Ladybug stood in Marinette’s place, battle-stance ready. She composed herself.

“Why did I have to transform?”

Master Fu strolled over, examining the screwdriver in his hand. “Your yo-yo is needed.” When he ceased walking, his free hand gestured for the yo-yo. Ladybug unfastened it from her suit and handed it over.

With the small tool, he unwound a bolt and snapped the small device in half, revealing the components inside. Her eyes widened and she flinched, but he paid no mind.

“Wh-” Ladybug began. Her body was frozen in place and a hand was held out as if she wanted to stop him.

“Give me the circuit board,” he interrupted. He continued to unscrew the bolts embedded in the yo-yo.

Hesitantly, she stepped from her place on the mat and passed the green disk over to him with a shaky hand.

Master Fu carefully placed it in a small indent in the middle of the yo-yo. He then prodded the center of the disk, inducing a small red circle of light to radiate around the button before securing it all back together. Ladybug’s eyes glimmered with awe as he handed the yo-yo back to her.

“Press the middle dot on both sides at once to activate its new power. Twist the top to move forward and twist the bottom to move back. I trust that it will be safe under your control. But I must warn you; if it ends up in the wrong hands, the results could be disastrous,” Master Fu advised.

Her lips pulled themselves into a thin line and a pair of irritated eyes peered at him through the mask. Yeesh, he surely did a great job of being vague about it. _Am I supposed to teach myself how to use it? Better ask questions while I still can._

“Wait, but wh-” Ladybug froze and her eyes widened. A bone-chilling scream erupted from behind the front entrance. Malicious laughter rang eerily through the air.

“Go, quickly, before your transformation wears off. Leave through the back exit.”

She waved her hand in a silent goodbye and sprinted to the door, aiming a nice round-house kick at it and barreling out of the building.

Ladybug shot up from the ground and bolted around the side of the clinic. Her yo-yo seemed to move on its own as it launched itself onto the roof of the neighboring building and wound its way around the chimney.

For a moment it felt like flying; soaring through the air like a bird, liberated from the indestructible chains of gravity that inevitably imprisoned her. The colors harmonized in a silent symphony, and the world seemed to spin as she landed on the shingles with an airborne somersault.

Ladybug dashed across the roof and came to a halt just as she neared the edge. Perched on the very rim of the building, she guided her yo-yo up into eyesight and glided a tracker into view. Her eyes trained on a green paw print quickly sliding across the screen in her general direction. It moved closer and closer until she turned her head to verify how close he actually was, only to be met with a blur of black zipping past. The spotted superhero almost fell off of the roof in surprise, and had to steady herself. The messy blonde hair on his head and lop-sided grin she caught plastered on his face told her it was the one and only Chat Noir, who was hurtling into battle without a plan. Typical. A light-hearted giggle forced its way out of her mouth. She placed a gloved hand over the smile that now rested on her lips.

A maniacal cackle tore through the pleasant warmth in her mood, and she pivoted her head towards the source. Ladybug’s hands curled into fists, which only tensed further as she heaved herself into a standing position.

A man cast his shadow over the fleeing citizens, and a sick grin spread over his face as he watched a child struggling to hold her grip on the corner of a building. The poor kid appeared to be falling sideways.

She lifted her gaze to the man. He looked hauntingly similar to a balance scale. His limbs were unnaturally elongated and skinny, and in each of the man’s wide-spread hands laid the chains to a weighing pan. The akumatized villain seemed to glare up at her through the blindfold over his eyes and sneered, “Ah, she’s finally come to join us! If it isn’t Ladybug and her excuse for-a-cat partner, Chat Noir. It’s a shame you had to arrive so soon, eh? Oh, I was only getting started. Well, I guess you should know who ruined ya. It’s Gravity Man, nice to meet ya.”

Chat was in the process of reaching for the little girl when he stopped to retort, “Hey! I might not be a real cat but I’m just as pawsome. I mean, just look at my furrawless attire.” He frowned and turned back around to aid the distressed child. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Everything’ll be okay. It’s gonna get better. Just take my hand and you’ll be safe.” He offered a reassuring smile.

The girl paused for a second and nodded. “Okay,” she sniffed.

Chat pulled her to safety and she sat on her knees, droplets still falling from her eyes as she wailed, residing on the side of the building as if it was the ground.

The baddie groaned and cursed under his breath. He mumbled, “Stupid kid. Stop crying already.” Then he growled. “How about I make this little rescue a whole lot easier?” he offered sarcastically.

The weighing pans were brought together until they came into contact with each other, and he aimed them at Chat and the little girl, both of whom had been making their way down the building. What appeared to be a bolt of electricity shot out of the pans and at the two individuals on the wall. They glowed a bright yellow, and both seemed to be unable to move as the man began to spin. The entities he held were thrown across the city, the momentum from the constant rotation propelling them further and further until they looked like ants. Then, like boomerangs, they plunged back around in a loop and across the path they traveled, and he caught them.

Ladybug charged at Gravity Man, directing a kick at his face. A stabbing pain was all that raced through her mind, and everything jerked laterally as she was struck in the side of the head by one of the pans. She dove unwillingly towards the pavement and hit it rolling. The wounded superhero struggled to sit up. For some odd reason, I feel incredibly… heavy. It was difficult to describe, but she felt as if the weight of her body had multiplied a hundred times over.

The aura of yellow illuminating the little girl as well as Chat faded away, and the child screeched as she dropped the rest of the way to the ground. The effects of her enchantment had worn off.

So the orientation of a citizen’s gravity is returned to normal after being zapped twice, huh.

The kid landed with a sickening thud and remained motionless. Ladybug’s stomach turned and she began to move from her place, but her legs gave way when she made an attempt to stand up. The slippery street didn't help either. However, the girl seemed to be okay as she stirred and arose from her position. She ran with horrified sobs into the nearest doorway.

Chat, on the other hand, plummeted parallel to his spot on the wall. She gripped her yo-yo tightly in her fist, but stopped herself when laughter reached her ears.

Her head had finally stopped reeling before she formed a makeshift megaphone with her hands and called out to him, “You okay?”

“Doing great! This is actually quite fun,” Chat called back as he bounced off of a wall and extended his baton from building to building, slowly making his way over.

“Chat style! Booya!” The metal stick collided with Gravity Man’s chest, sending him over to Ladybug.

“Wait, I can't-” She rolled to the side, and the flying villain hit the ground just as she moved out of the way.

“Why didn't you do something? That shot was perfect!” Chat complained.

“If you’d just let me finish, I was saying that I can't stand up. It seems that when I was hit in the head, gravity took a greater effect on me.”

“My Lady, even if there were no gravity on earth, I’d still fall for you.”

Irritation simply dripped from the expression on her face. “Chat, I swear, I will-”

“Watch out!” he exclaimed abruptly. 

Behind her, the man was beginning to stand back up. She didn't wheel around to look.

She raised an eyebrow. “Not funny, kitty.”

He started to bring the weighing pans together in her direction.

“No, really, look!”

“Pfft. He should be out for a little longer. You hit him pretty hard.”

“I appreciate your kindness, my lady, but for gosh sakes, just turn around!”

Ladybug huffed before she finally turned around, and her eyes widened.

It took plenty of expertise to come up with plans at the speed of lightning, but that proved to be a piece of cake for Paris’ famous superhero when all the pieces clicked into place, and she launched her yo-yo around Gravity Man’s fists full of chains and heaved the bolt of electricity at Chat. She then spun the man around, not caring where the pans were pointed, for whichever way they ended up, it would still cancel out the altered gravitational effect he’d cast on her partner. When the golden aura faded away, the cat clad in black lowered himself to the ground with a slow shrink of his baton.

She released the akumatized villain from the suffocating grip of her yo-yo, and both heroes hurled themselves at him, punches packed in stubborn fists and kicks inflicted by merciless feet.

“Any idea where the akuma might be hiding?” Chat inquired when they both stood far enough out of earshot.

“If you ask me, I bet it's in the blindfold. You draw his attention and I’ll snatch it,” she said. Her voice was hushed and her eyes flickered over to the man periodically. Both legs began to tremble as the force of gravity continued to hold her down with more strength than ever.

Chat nodded curtly, ran around the villain, and shouted, “Hey, you! Lemon head! Aren’t you being a bit too sour today?”

A purple outline of a butterfly masked his face. The evilized civilian ceased sending daggers at Ladybug through the white cloth and whipped around to face the little nuisance.

“What a brat. Just hand me your Miraculous already and this’ll all be over!”

“Not gonna happen, Gravity Man!”

She finished untying the blindfold, slipped it off the man's face, and hopped back down to the ground. Her right knee came up and ripped it in half.

No akuma flew from its remains.

Appalled, her eyes darted around and searched for the black butterfly. She didn't see it, and fell to her knees as she collapsed under her own weight. _If it’s not in the blindfold, then where is it?_

Chat dodged the weighing pans with stealth as the akumatized villain swung at him. They came, flying at him, one after the other. It formed a pattern, which embedded itself into his mind. He knew there was going to be a break in the chain; he just didn't know when.

“Swing-jump, swing-jump, swing-swing-jump.” The trusty sidekick knew it by heart. It was like a deranged game of jump-rope… except with deadly-flying pans.

Inevitably he wasn’t expecting both to come flying up at him simultaneously, and ducked at the very last moment as they smashed together just above his head. The villain seemed to be focused on a distant point, and Chat traced the man’s gaze to its source. The yellow eyes were trained on none other than his partner, Ladybug.

Out of the corner of her eye blinked a glance of gold. The sudden flash of light was too close for comfort, and the spotted hero pivoted her head in a hurry.

Her eyes instantly widened merely at the sight of it, and her jaw dropped ever so slightly.

Chat Noir was suspended in thin air, splayed out on his side in mid-leap. He’d jumped in the way of the bolt, taking the hit in the process.

Just behind him spun gravity man, who launched the golden weighing pans far into the sky.

She watched him helplessly until a fire of determination sparked in the cerulean-blue irises.

“Lucky Charm!” she shouted. A giant magnet dropped into her outstretched palms. _Hmm… how can I use this?_ Her fingers closed around the metallic surface. It would have to wait till later.

Holding the polka-dotted object in her left hand, Ladybug lobbed her yo-yo at her partner. It wrapped around him as he fell towards the clouds. She gripped the string tighter in her fist and began reeling him in like a fish out of water.

Gravity Man seized the opportunity and used the distraction to attack other citizens. In almost no time there were multitudes of people darting in every which way.

“My lady,” Chat called out. “I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation.”

“I think I understand it just fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

There was a pause before he replied.

“I don't appreciate your cattitude.”

“Give it up, super-twerps. Team Hawkmoth’s won this time, so fork ‘em over!” the villain shouted.

“Never!” Chat retorted.

“You know, I’ll let you fall if you start irritating me.”

“Pawlease. You couldn't live without my furrbulous puns,” he said.

“You’re lucky I won't let go of your furry butt, or you won't have any puns to annoy me with.” Her head tilted as a strategy began to simmer in her mind. It’d be a huge risk, but she’d have to take that chance.

“Hey, speaking of which,” Ladybug continued. 

“You wouldn't.” Chat’s face filled with panic. “I'm not that annoying, am I?”

“I’m sorry.” She smiled apologetically as her fist unfurled. I really hope this works.

The yo-yo zipped back to her and she clutched it in her right hand. She held it as far from her face as possible, and shrunk away from it with eyes forced shut as her index fingers pressed the center polka-dot on both sides.

A deafening silence invaded her ears. Her eyelids opened cautiously. Partially, at first, then completely as she took in the scene around her.

Everything was frozen in place--Gravity man, halfway through a spin; the petrified visages of bystanders as they looked on in fear and others in the middle of fleeing; Alya crouching just around the corner of a building with a smartphone at the ready; citizens as they fell in every direction; even Chat, who was in the midst of plunging into the sky, the same panicked expression written all over his face. She observed the phenomenon in awe.

_Something’s missing._

There was a distinct absence where her yo-yo had been only moments beforehand.

Ladybug frantically turned around and found it. Or, at least, she thought she did.

_This can’t really be my yo-yo, can it?_

Suspended in midair were the two spotted disks that formed the foundation of the weapon. They were spread apart, one floating atop the other. It was a peculiar sight. She couldn’t shake a way the disbelief in her eyes as she marvelled at the wonder wedged in between. Two colons separated three sections of numbers.

 _It’s a digital time clock._ Using a finger, she pointed to each set as her train of thought chugged on. And I'm guessing that those are the hours, minutes, and seconds.

 _So, if I remember this correctly,_ _it's top to turn forward and bottom to turn back._ Ladybug stopped to think. Forward and back in time? It had to be.

The digits illuminated a bright red as she twisted the bottom disk. A gust of wind whipped her hair back as her vision flashed white, and she lost control of her senses for a moment.

She heard a familiar voice fade into the nothingness as she regained all feeling in her nerves.

“Any idea where the akuma might be hiding?” Chat inquired when they both stood far enough out of earshot.

“Oh, um,” she started, “If you ask me, I think it’s in the, er,” her head reeled and she took a moment to pause and think. “weighing pans. You draw his attention and I’ll go think of something,” she said. Ladybug flexed her left hand and found the absence of the giant magnet. Both legs began to tremble as the force of gravity continued to hold her down with more strength than ever.

Chat nodded curtly, ran around the villain, and went through with a diversion. All she caught from the conversation was that it had to do something with lemon heads and forks. Deciding not to question it at the moment seemed to the best option.

She paced back and forth, resisting the urge to pull the hair out of her head. The superhero stopped in her tracks, and her eyes widened as a lightbulb switched on in the back of her mind.

“Lucky charm!”

The spotted magnet landed in her hands once more.

_Weighing pans are made of metal, right?_

She focused on Chat as a plan worked itself out in her mind. _It’s simple, but it just might work._

Ladybug charged at the villain and flipped over his head with much difficulty, directing the ends of the magnet at the pans. It attracted the objects towards her, and she snatched them out of the man’s hands. The gravity brought her down to the ground much faster than she anticipated and she collapsed onto her knees as her legs gave out.

“Chat, will you do the honors?” she asked. Ladybug held the pans up for him.

“It’ll be my pleasure, my lady,” he replied.

Her partner took a bow before she heard him call on his special ability.

“Cataclysm!”

He brang a destructive hand into contact with both weighing pans.

“No!” the villain exclaimed as they crumbled to pieces.

A single black butterfly flew from the debris.

“No more evil-doing for you, little akuma,” she recited. Ladybug slid an index finger across the top disk of her yo-yo, which revealed a small compartment of purity. “Time to deevilize!”

It shot out of her hand and imprisoned the corrupt pest. “Gotcha!” She clutched the weapon close to her chest.

“Au revoir, pretty papillon.” A cleansed butterfly, it’s pigment white, flew free from the void. She watched it flutter into the sky before tossing the spotted magnet into the frigid air.

“Miraculous Ladybug!” It dispersed into a million ladybugs that swarmed in a million different directions. They restored any and all entities disturbed during the akuma fight. Gravity Man was erased from existence, both physically and from the memory of the man left behind.

“Pound it!” Ladybug and Chat Noir fist-bumped in celebration of yet another triumph. A single thought remained in her mind; _I can change time._

_\--_

Marinette turned the stopwatch over in her hands and flipped it open. A hologram of three sets of digits panned out from the hinges and they suspended in midair. The light radiating off of them illuminated the room.

After the battle ended that day, when she’d detransformed, not only did her kwami land in her hands, but so did the watch. Tikki presented it to her as a gift, and she’s had it ever since. The bluenette snapped the time-traveling device shut and headed to bed to pack it in. Tomorrow was going to be a big day for her.

She snuggled into the pink sheets as sweet sleep shed itself on her eyelids. A last thought bubbled up in her head and a small smile spread across her lips. _I can’t wait._


	2. I Can't do This

The following dawn began as the sun peaked through the horizon and revealed its warmth to all of Paris. Blinding rays of light spread like a wildfire through the city, and illuminated every building; every home in its path.

_“It’s Ladybug! Jumping above!_

_The power is on when things go wrong!”_

Marinette’s phone lit up as the song blasted in her ear. It resonated through the springs in the mattress.

_“It's Ladybug, the lucky charm!_

_The magic is on, always so strong!”_

An irritated hand snaked out of the covers and tapped the snooze button, then pulled the sheets over her head to block the light emanating from the windows. She groaned. _Why’s my alarm going off? It's the weekend._

Her nostrils flared as she breathed in the soothing scents of sugar and chocolate. The scents baked in the air, clouding all around her like a serum of slumber. She yawned and her eyelids fluttered closed. Her back sunk into the comfort of her mattress. The duvet hugged her; it was wrapped around her shoulders, inviting her to stay a while longer. Sleep wound its way around her head once more and slowly constricted her awareness as she snuggled into the fluffy embrace. _Fllt fllt._ The covers rustled from the movement. It was almost completely cut off when a thought punctured through the tired state of her mind.

Her eyes shot open with a prick of adrenaline as she remembered, and her lungs filled with the air of a gasp. She had set it especially for the occasion.

 _It’s today._ A grin spread across her face. _Today’s the day._ The covers dropped into her lap as she sat up. _This is really happening._

Marinette’s smile only widened with exhilaration as she swung the sheets off of her legs, hopped out of bed, and descended the steps of the staircase.

Her hair was bundled in a messy bun, which bobbed up and down as she pranced over to the vanity. She disentangled the bobby pins from the mass of midnight strands. The cold metal brushed across the tips of her fingers. Blue eyes stared at her face through the reflection before they focused on the pair of struggling hands tugging the hair bands out of the disarray. She bit her tongue.

A dull pain of lactic acid shot through her arms as they grew tired. There was a last moment of determination before they finally hung at her sides in defeat. She sighed.

“Tikki!” Marinette called, “A little help, please?”

“I’m three steps ahead of you,” said the small kwami, and she picked and plucked at the mess, flitting around to reach various angles.

The teen inhaled sharply as a pin of pain pricked her scalp. “Ouch!” She flinched.

“Sorry! It was an accident,” Tikki blurted out in apology. She flew onto the surface of the vanity when it had finally loosened.

“Thanks.” Her fingers pulled at the hair bands once again and found that they slid out with ease.

“It was no problem,” she replied, before heaving open one of the drawers by the handle. It exposed a pink brush, which Marinette lifted from the compartment. It ran through her hair without trouble, except for the occasional hitch of a knot. They were almost all removed when Tikki asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

The brush was ripped out of her hair like Velcro.

“Yes, Tikki, I am. I've been sure about this for quite a while now. And if something goes wrong, I can always fix it. You know that.” She returned the pink bristles to her hair once again, before parting the strands into two parts and fastening the halves into pigtails.

“Okay, I think I'm ready. Tikki, spots on!” The room was filled with a blinding light as her kwami spiraled into her speckled earrings and Marinette morphed into her superhero counterpart.

Ladybug stood in her place, battle stance ready. Her body relaxed and she settled into a calmer position.

She peered through the mask at herself in the mirror.

A spotted fist was brought up to her chest as a stern tone took over her voice. “I, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, am Ladybug. I’m Ladybug. I, am Ladybug.” _I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this._

She ascended the staircase to her bed and climbed through the trapdoor atop it. Fresh air met her face almost immediately as she raised herself from the floor of the balcony. A last gust of nocturnal air breathed on the back of her neck, and she shivered. The spotted hero relinquished her worries in a deep breath. Her foot took a step back before she launched herself over the railing and flipped onto the sidewalk below. Whirling black pavement and white cement mingled into an abstract painting.

“Aah!”

_Splat._

From beside her came the balling of toddler. His ice cream sat on the sidewalk, cone up. It’s melted cream dribbled into the cracks. Sweet scents of milk and mint wafted from the splattered mess. The child, appalled at the abrupt appearance of Paris’ iconic hero, had tears streaming down the cheeks of his poor, horrified face. _I feel awful. It’s not like I was trying to scare him, it just sort of… happened._ Cars rushed to and fro on the streets. Thirty-mile winds pushed forward by the vehicles whipped the hair of pedestrians and passers-by. She sent him an apologetic furrow of her eyebrows.

“I'm so, so sorry about that. Ladybug will make it all better, okay? I know exactly how to fix this.” Her teeth gritted. _I don't know how to fix this. Look’s like I'll need a bit of help._

“Lucky charm!” she shouted aloud as she called on her special ability. The kid’s eyes widened before he turned tail and fled.

A new packet of ice cream landed in her outstretched palms. Her head raised to find nobody there, with exception for a few citizens that looked on in disapproval. _He’s gone. I scared him. Again._ A frown found itself plastered on her face as her posture slackened.

She searched for the boy and caught him dashing down the sidewalk away from her. His chubby hands covered his face, blocking his vision as he stumbled blindly forwards.

“Wait! I got you another ice cream cone! Come back!”

Her attempt failed, and the toddler only had motive to flee faster. She began to chase after him. A jolt of fear pulsed through her veins. _He’s getting dangerously close to the intersection._ Her feet pounded the concrete with haste.

The boy unknowingly rushed into the middle of the street. The earsplitting sound of a car screeching to a halt echoed through the air as it shot across the pavement. He recoiled and braced himself for the pain.

A pair of arms scooped him up and out of the way. His feet returned to the ground. The absence of the hit was startling, yet he still trembled in terror.

Gaps formed between his fingers and he peaked through them. Ladybug bent down in front of him. His hands fell from his face as the tears ceased falling. He sniffed.

“You forgot to get your ice cream,” she said. From behind her back came a waffle cone of Rocky Road, which she handed to him. She ruffled the little guy’s hair, then straightened back up to leave. “Be careful next time, okay? And try not to run in the middle of the street with your eyes closed.” Her yo-yo wrapped around a street lamp, and she tugged on the string.

“Wait!” the child exclaimed. Ladybug wheeled around to look at him. “Um… thank you! I promise I won’t do it again!”

“Pinky swear?” A small smile bloomed on her face as she giggled.

“Yeah!” They locked pinkies.

Her miraculous beeped.

“Okay, I gotta go. Stay safe!” The spotted hero bid the toddler farewell before swinging above the rooftops and out of sight.

“Bye bye, Ladybug!” He grinned and began devouring his icy treat.

Green grass, gravel pathways, and tree tops rolled into view. _There she is._

Alya Césaire sat on a bench in the shade, hidden underneath the leafy canopy. The ombre-haired girl flicked a finger across the screen of her phone. She was scrolling through a bombardment of comments on her Ladyblog. Thousands of usernames flashed before her eyes and the pink-and-white squares of light reflected off of her glasses.

Ladybug touched down to the ground in the park. Immediately her back brushed against the fence. Each sidestep announced itself with a small crackle of the gravel as she crept along the bars. Finally she was behind her friend. The superhero tip-toed forward. A branch cracked under her foot, and she froze.

“Wha- who’s there?” Alya asked. Her head turned.

Ladybug dropped into a crouch. _I don't know why I’m so scared. I've been planning this for weeks._ When the teen’s eyes had stopped flitting around, she popped up from her spot on the ground and tapped the girl on the shoulder with a hesitant hand. “Oh, it’s just me.”

She flinched, almost falling off of the bench. “Oh my gosh, girl. Marinette, you scared me so much! Since when were you so qui-” Alya pivoted her head in her friend’s direction, but cut herself off when an unexpected visitor stood in front of her in the place of who she thought was her best friend.

“Ladybug! How did you get there?” Alarm overflowed her words.

“I flew.”

“Oh. Well, mind if I bother you with an interview?” She stuck the seven inch screen in the superhero’s face, revealing a single post. It had over 5,000 comments. “I had fans ask questions they’d want me to say to you if I could get another one.”

Her miraculous beeped. _Three dots left. Gosh, I hope I get my timing correct._

“Why not?” Ladybug answered.

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much!” Alya pulled up the camera app on her phone and tapped the “record” button.

“Yo, bugheads; it's Alya here, live streaming with Paris’ one and only Ladybug! I'm going to get an exclusive interview with her and any one of _your_ comments might have a chance of being asked. So be prepared.” She minimized the camera before returning back to her blog. “Ready?” she asked.

“Yep,” Ladybug said. _Ready as I’ll ever be._ The butterflies in her stomach begged to be set free.

“Okay.” Her best friend slid her finger across the screen several times before she came to a stop. “Oh, here’s one. It's from _xOQueenChloXo._ It says, ‘Hey, LB, it's your bff, Chloe. Tell me, who do _you_ think is your biggest fan?’”

In an instant the fluttering unsurety vanished. _Piece of cake._ “Ooh, that's a hard one. Biggest fan? It’s gotta be none other than… Chat Noir, of course!” She laughed and rolled her eyes.

Alya gave her a thumbs up. “Haha, well, I’d expect no less from _that_ silly cat. It's such a shame he couldn't join us today.” Her hazel eyes glanced at the blog. “So, here’s your next question; _UnderAgreste769_ wants to know if anyone’s ever written you a poem.”

 _Adrien? Oh my gosh. He follows the Ladyblog?!_ Her cheeks turned pink merely at the thought of him. Butterflies bubbled to the surface again. She had to resist the urge to squeal with joy. “A poem?” A deep fuchsia stained her face. _Well there’s the one from the trash that he wrote, but I can’t mention that!_ “Um…”

“Ooh, I believe we have an answer, Ladybloggers! You _have_ had a poem written to you, haven't you?” Alya teased. “What's the scoop?”

“No! Um, I-It was… It was nothing, really.” The apples of her cheeks began to resemble the tint of a tomato, and she twirled a strand of her hair around a finger with a long, dreamy glance to the side.

“Sure, whatever you say, girl. But I know what you’re thinking. It’s only going to get better from here, trust me.” The blogger winked and laughed.

Adrien Agreste sat on the rolling chair in his room. A collection of flatscreens sat on his desk, each depicting a close-up of Ladybug’s red face as she covered it with her hands.

The boy’s eyes were glued to the screen as he called to his kwami. “Plagg! Can you believe this?” He spun the rolling-chair around in a circle of triumph. “She read my poem!”

“Slow down. Don’t get ahead of yourself. The poem might not’ve even have been from you in the first place!” Plagg said.

Adrien grumbled under his breath and ignored him. His eyes returned to the screen, intent on watching the interview.

“ _Anonymous_ asked; ‘Have you ever tried telling your parents who you are?’” Alya continued.

The superhero’s blush had begun to fade and her arms rested at her sides. She’d finally calmed down by the time she said, “Well, if I did, I don’t think I’d have been _grounded_ for never being in the right place at the right time. Heheh, you know me, always running around to help cats down from trees and stuff.”

“Right. And it’s not like you can just tell them suddenly, ‘Oh, by the way--mom, dad, I was late to school yesterday because I was helping people. Because,’” a mock look of surprise formed on Alya’s face and she gasped, “‘surprise! I’m Ladybug!’”

With a gloved hand Ladybug scratched the back of her neck. A sheepish grin spread across her face. “Hah! I can’t imagine how your parents would react.” Her friend laughed at the possible scenarios.

Marinette’s mother and father stood side by side, watching the ongoing video.

"Remember when we grounded Marinette because she was always late?" Sabine asked. "What if she had good reason for being so?"  
"Well, we'd never ground our little girl unless, of course, it was under the right conditions. We did the right thing, honey," Tom said.

She turned to her husband, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t think…”

“Nah. Marinette? She’d tell us.”

“You’re right.” A chuckle forced its way out of her mouth. “What was I thinking? She’d _definitely_ tell us if she was Ladybug, right?”

“No doubt about it.”

Their heads turned back to the livestream.

Her miraculous beeped.

“You need to go already?” Alya asked.

“No, it’s fine. I can stay a bit longer,” she said.

“Okay, if you insist… So, _GingerSketch326_ would like to know the oddest thing you do in your freetime.”

“Stalk--I mean hang out with, my crush.” _But at a distance. A_ long _distance._

“That’s not very odd, unless, of course, you were my best friend, Marinette, which you aren’t. That girl can’t even say ‘hi’ to _her_ crush.”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow. _Oh really?_ She tilted her head. _Okay,_ maybe _it’s a bit true… A lot true?_ “Well, you never know.”

“Oh, _trust_ me, I know.” The ombre haired girl laughed.

 _No, no you don’t. Not yet, at least._ “Go on.”

“ _TotallyAwesomeDuuuude_ asked, ‘What was your first reaction when you became Ladybug?’”

“Well, when I first got my miraculous, I thought I wasn’t cut out for the job, to be quite honest. I even tried to give it to my best friend.”

“Did she take it?” Alya asked.

“Am I not Ladybug?”

Her friend chuckled. “Right.”

The earrings beeped again. _One dot left to go._

“Sure it isn’t time for you to go?”

“No, it’s totally fine. However, since this’ll have to be cut short, got any questions of your own?”

“Oh, you know it, LB,” she replied. “Are there any hints you can give us about your true identity?”

“Well, I might have one, but it’ll be a total giveaway.” Ladybug laughed and scratched the back of her head.

Her miraculous beeped one more time, and her eyes widened.

A pink wave of electricity washed over her. The energy left from her suit morphed into a kwami; her transformation had faded.

“I think this is the biggest hint I can give you,” Marinette said. Tikki dropped into her palms.

_Clack._

Alya’s phone dropped into the gravel.


	3. I Can't Fix This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you think you'd abuse time-traveling powers if you had them?

Alya’s hand shot up to cover her mouth, and she pointed a finger at Marinette, hazel irises fully on display. Her pupils quivered.

“M-” she blurted out. “M-M-”

Alya squealed before she broke out in a fit of laughter.

“My best friend is a superhero! No, better yet, she’s Ladybug!”

Relief flooded Marinette’s veins.  _ She isn't angry? _

She bent down and swooped her phone off of the ground before directing the camera at the blue-haired teen standing merely feet in front of her.

“Hey, bugheads, take a look at this; at this girl right here, this amazing, clumsy best-friend of mine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng---the one and only Ladybug.”

Marinette glowed with a smile that spread from one ear to the other, and Alya gasped aloud.

“So it  _ was _ your history textbook that she dropped!  _ You’re _ the girl behind the mask. It was  _ you _ all along, wasn't it?” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. An eyebrow rose, paired with a mischievous smirk. “Kinda disappointing, if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Marinette exclaimed in feigned exasperation.

“Hahahah, I’m only kidding, ya know.” A contented sigh slipped from her lips before she grinned in triumph. She switched the camera view back to herself. “So, peeps, there you have it--our miraculous spotted heroine has finally been unmasked.”

Adrien gaped at the screen, and a dumbfounded expression glazed over his face.  _ Marinette? She-- _

“Remember the pharaoh? Face change. And Camembert. Never forget Camembert. But seriously--really time you had one of those face changes right now,” Plagg said.

“And  _ I  _ believe it's really time you had one of those cheese triangles stuffed in your pie hole so you could shut up.” The blonde teen rummaged through his school bag, located a chunk of the stenchy stuff with his fingers, and shoved it in the kwamis mouth. He retched as it passed by his nose. “Are you happy now?”

The minute cat gulped down the much-welcomed gag and replied with a very unwelcomed, “Yes.”

Adrien deadpanned.

“So, how does it feel to finally know the identity of your  _ lady _ ?” Plagg teased.

“You seem to be enjoying this a lot.” He glared at his tormentor.

“Oh, I am. Ooh! Here’s an interesting plan--why don’t you go confess?”

“Plagg! Stop plaguing me with your awful---” He stopped, interrupting himself. “Wait… Huh. That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” the blonde said as he pondered the suggestion. He tapped his chin, gazing up at the ceiling with interchanging expressions. “But what about protecting our identities?”

“I think that was thrown out the window when she revealed herself.”

“I hate you, you know that?”

“I hate you too. You know I’m right. So, confession? How about it? I can always fly over there and tell her myself if you don’t want to.”

“Ugh, but--”

“No buts. It's as simple as eating Camembert. You just walk up and eat her hair,” Plagg said seriously.

“Uh, I think I’ll just stick with telling her I’m Chat Noir.”

“Yes!”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped in an irritated huff. “If looks could kill you’d be so dead right now.”

“But I’m not!” Plagg exclaimed, voice filled to the brim with mockery and delight. “Now let's get moving--I have a show to watch.”

The blond raised a perfectly-plucked eyebrow.

“I mean, you have to go eat her hair.”

“Like I said before—I am  _ not _ going to eat her hair!”

The kwami eyed him with suspicion. “We’ll see about that.”

Alya’s finger jabbed the ‘stop’ button, ending the livestream. 

A prick of fury edged her gaze as she glared at Marinette when it ceased recording. Her lips contorted into a seething smile, head tilted, before she spun on her heel and turned her back. The ombré settled for a fast pace as she stormed across the grass and towards the gates, leaving an appalled Mari open-mouthed in shock where she stood, frozen like a deer in the headlights.

_ What? _ Midnight eyebrows knitted themselves together. The girl blinked consecutively, temporarily and unconsciously shielding her eyes from the enigma.

_ Why am I just standing here? _ Regaining her composure, she shot after her friend.

“Alya! Wait!” Marinette called out before she stumbled over her own feet.“Al!”

The hazel-eyed teen stopped in her tracks, knuckles white as her fingers suffocated in their palms.

_ Why is she so angry suddenly? _ “Al!”

A dead laugh dusted the air. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

Alya forced herself to twist her shoulders, head following suit. A twitch of a frown faltered on her face before it stiffened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I would’ve but--” Marinette began with her excuse.

“You know what? Nevermind. I don’t want to hear it.” She managed to turn away, but a single glance at the anguish engraved in the bluenette’s expression shot her through the chest. Unfortunately, it flipped a switch in her mind, and a stoical last statement squeezed through her lips, voice cracked in denial.

“We aren't friends anymore. Goodbye,” Alya said. Her last word was hushed and broken, before she took one glitchy step after the other away from the prevaricator.  _ She  _ lied _ to me all this time. _

“Alya!” Marinette called out.

Bystanders began to stare at the commotion with looks that questioned the two’s sanity.

The ombré growled in frustration before she whipped around. Horror bored into her through her friend’s cerulean irises and her breath hitched, eyelids pulled wide. She brought her hands into view and realized the monstrosity in the way she acted as they quivered before her. Clammy and cold, they lowered to her sides as she took a few steps back, nearly tripping over nothing. With a shaking head and furrowed eyebrows, tears welled up, and a final glimpse was taken of her former bff before she split.

“Alya! Al! Come back!” the bluenette shouted. “Aly--” Her face coming into contact with the gravel interrupted her like a slap to the face. A grunt of pain winded her as she crashed and skidded across the ground. It stung, but she immediately heaved herself up off the rocks nonetheless and cupped her palms around her mouth. There was a second in which she caught her breath.

Alya fled the scene, as if every foot of distance between them would help. By then her decision to escape was irrefutable.  _ I can’t stop now; I’ve already started. I just… need some time to think. Alone. _ She could taste the salt in her tears as shaky breaths and silent cries for help pried opened her mouth. A sniff sucked the mucus back into her throat. Ladybug couldn’t save her now. She stumbled forward. A gulp forced down the urge to wail, yet she only sobbed harder when the sound of a thud and the crackling of gravel reached her ears. It was soon followed by an eventual outcry from her best friend.

“Wait!”

The only decision in her mind was to run faster.  _ I’m sorry. _ Alya exited the park through a gap in the trees, contemplating briefly to go back, but ended up crossing the street, narrowly evading a couple of honking cars and screeches as they skidded to a halt. She burst through the doors of a familiar white building.

A bell jingled, signaling her arrival.

Exhausted from the sprint, she bent over, hands resting on her thighs as she breathed heavily through an open frown.

“Marinette’s not here right now.”

Alya straightened up, and Sabine caught a glimpse of the tears streaming down the girl’s face from her stance behind the front desk. She offered a sad smile. “You can wait for her upstairs if you’d like, though. Macarons?”

“Thanks,” she murmured, receiving the compact box of pastries. She headed past the brick backsplash and sacks of flour to the steps, trudging the rest of the way to her former-bff’s room.

Marinette lost sight of her friend as the automobiles concealed her location, hurtling across the street and formulating an opaque screen over the sidewalk beyond the pavement. Her gaze traveled to the ground as her posture slackened. She dragged herself forward in a lost effort in the direction of Alya’s disappearance, feet shuffling through the pebbles. They scattered out from beneath her.  _ What’ve I done? _

“I can’t believe I actually got you to go confess,” Plagg said.

“You don’t know that. It still hasn’t happened yet,” Adrien replied, voice hushed.

“You said ‘yet’, so that means I did. I think this deserves some Camembert.”

Adrien glared at him. “Maybe later. Besides, you should get down before anybody sees you.” He pushed his kwami out of sight.

A piece of gravel scuttled into view. His eyes trailed across its path, only to meet with the image of the one person he was looking for.

Marinette continued to kick the pebbles around, mentally scolding herself and glaring at the ground with scattered mumbling before digging her foot in the rocks once more to watch them skitter about. She jumped forward when the voice of a boy she knew all too well bubbled happily in her ear.

“Hi, Marinette!”

“Aah!” Shrunken in on herself and covering her ears, she quickly uncurled from her position and pivoted around to face him. With a blank mind merely at the appearance of her crush, she wobbled, almost losing her footing. Her arms flapped at the speed of lightning before she regained her balance, promptly folding her hands behind her back as she stood up straight.

“Um, H-hi! Nice you see to! I mean, you look nice! Aah. I mean, nice to see you!” The volume of her voice crescendoed as she corrected herself repeatedly. She was already blushing, her signature lovestruck grin plastered on her face.

“Hi,” he said to his lady. His cheeks were painted red as well.

“Hi,” she said. Her eyes were half-lidded as she stared at his face dreamily.

“Nice to see you too.” He grinned sheepishly and stared at the ground, realizing that he’d greeted her twice as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’d like to, uh, tell you something. Is that--um--alright with you?”

“Hi,” Marinette said, still in a trance.

He blinked several times.  _ Is she even listening? _

“I think you scared her,” Plagg whispered not-so-quietly from the inside of his white overshirt.

Adrien’s hand whizzed vertically in front of his lady’s face, only to no avail. He dashed behind her and tapped her on her shoulder, which also showed no success, then moved to her side and poked her head, lips pursed in frustration. His finger accidentally brushed a few strands of her hair.

_ It’s so… soft. _ His hand hovered over her head, contemplating the notion in his mind. Then his palm glided over her scalp without a second thought, and he began to pet her. A sparkle of admiration glimmered in his pupils. Adrien stroked her hair rhythmically, removing his hand only to let it drift across the midnight strands once again.  _ My lady. _

“You do realize what you’re doing, don’t you?” Plagg admonished in a hushed shout. “This is the love of your life. Confess already!”

Adrien’s hand froze, and he panicked, startled by the sharp voice of his kwami. Out of shock, he reflexed with the first thing that popped up in his mind. He leaned in…

_ Chomp. _

Adrien’s jaws closed around a clump of hair in one of her pigtails.

“When I said eat her hair, I didn’t actually mean it!”

Marinette’s face turned into a tomato (the same shade as Adrien’s at the moment) and her shoulders instantly hunched. She squeaked.

His eyes widened in horror as he released her hair. He took a sharp breath of a gasp and jumped back.  _ Did I really just do that? _ His teeth ground together and he glared at nothing in particular, although it was aimed at himself.  _ She’s never going to forgive me for this. _

Marinette unclasped her hands from behind her back and rubbed her temple with furrowed eyebrows, trying her best to process what just happened.  _ Did he..? _ She looked up at him. He seemed to be scowling at her.  _ He’s… angry at me. It’s just like Alya…  _

Her expression dissipated, the blush vanishing from her face. It was replaced with a limp frown, mouth slightly open. Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the ground with dead eyes.

He ceased exerting the infuriated countenance and was taken aback by the sudden dejection written in her body language.  _ She looks upset. _ “Marinette, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. It just sort of… happened. I’m sorry,” Adrien said.

“It’s fine.”

“No really, I’m sorry,” he persisted, attempting to reassure her. “I apologize. I promise not to do that again.”

She lifted her head to peer at him through the blur of droplets clouding her vision, and shook her head before saying, “Just stop, okay? I said it’s fine.” The bluenette swallowed. “I just---I need to go.”

Her bottom lip quivered before she turned away, breaking down in tears, head in her hands as she stumbled blindly towards the gates of the park.

A lifeless pain shot through the edge of her collarbone as it collided with the cold metal. Her body jerked sideways and began to drift towards the street. The bruise inevitably began to form, however she ignored it when the sound of passing cars earned her full attention. Straightaway she stopped in her tracks, tearing her hands away from her face to reveal a hoard of automobiles bustling by.

Marinette sniffed, a salty drop of sadness dribbling down her cheek. She wiped it away with trembling knuckles. “Tikki!”  _ I need to find Alya.  _ Her eyes were squeezed shut, fists clenched. “Spots on!”

Adrien sighed as his shoulders loosened. Plagg flew out of cover and whizzed into the boy’s line of sight.

“Ooh, so you’ve been rejected. What’re you gonna do next?” he teased.

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s what  _ I _ did that upset her. There might’ve been other things on her mind.” 

His eyes narrowed at the small cat. “Anyways, I didn’t even confess yet, so how could she reject me?”

A red blob shot upward in the top corner of his vision, and he looked up. Ladybug launched herself over the horizon of edifices and out of sight.

Adrien pilfered a glance at his kwami, then dashed into the shade of the trees.

“What are you doing?” Plagg asked when he caught up.

“Going after her,” the blond replied.

“You don’t have to hide. Everybody knows Ladybug’s identity, so why can’t they know yours?”

“Ladybug doesn’t know my identity, and I’d prefer to keep it that way at the moment. It’s just a precaution,” Adrien said before murmuring, “just in case she really  _ is _ upset because of me.” He cleared his throat. “Besides, I don’t think now’s the right time for me to tell her.”

Plagg opened his mouth and inhaled to speak.

_ Nope! _ “Claws out!” His fist was suspended in midair before his hand splayed out in front of his face.

“You know, you wouldn’t have this problem if Ladybug was a type of cheeeese!” His kwami rambled in a shout as he was sucked into the ring.

_ I was too late. _ His eyebrows formed a crease between them as his fingers closed, and he threw them in the air. The miraculous flashed a lime green. He drew the energy across his face, fabricating a mask. A pair of cat ears bounced into existence the instant he smoothed out his hair, which rearranged itself into a mass of blond tufts.

An ‘x’ was assembled out of his forearms before he extended his limbs, allowing the green energy to clothe him in an ebony catsuit. Chat furled into a ball and exploded out of the position when a leather belt erupted from the back of his waist. He shrunk into himself once more, springing out with fierce claws and swiping the air just ahead of him, ending in a defensive battle stance.

The hero sighed, head tilted momentarily as his fingers interlocked in a mild attempt to stretch his arms. He sprinted out of the park, stopping only to grasp for his baton and stretch over the nearest rooftop.

Glistening irises searched the cement alongside the sea of cars for a fleeing head of ombré hair. She stood still on the shingles of a rooftop. Ladybug retracted her hand, tossing it forward shortly after and propelling her yo-yo out across a gap in the buildings.

_ Cleck. _

A metal stick collided with the weapon as it shot into the open air, and a pair of nimble feet touched down beside her as it reeled back into her fist.

“Why did you do that?” She glared at him.

“You seemed a little out of it, so I wanted to make sure mew were paying attention. Whatever it is you’re upset about, it’s going to get better.” He pushed his face closer to her’s, resting his head on the back of his hands and his palms on the top of his baton. A twinge of concern flashed in his eyes. “Can a kitty purr-suade a lady to tell him what’s wrong?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug took a step closer, placing a foot next to the stick. A hint of pink burned his cheeks, but it was cleverly replaced with the raise of an eyebrow.

“No.” With a heave, she kicked it out from underneath his weight and slid to the side.

“Aah!” Chat lurched forward, landing on all fours. He fumbled for his baton as it bounced down the slope.

A congregation of automobiles snarled to and fro on the street below.

Zipping to the rescue, a string wound around the metal rod and brought it hurtling towards Ladybug. She snatched it with outstretched fingers and offered the flirt a hand. “You wanna know what’s wrong?”

“Yup,” the hero said as his partner pulled him up. He caught the weapon as it was tossed to him.

“To be honest, I don't know,” she replied with a shrug. She hiked to the top of the roof.

“Why?” Chat followed her.

“Personal stuff. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Yeah. Except satisfaction,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “brought it back.”

She rolled her eyes at him and facepalmed. “Ugh.” Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. “To keep it short, I’ve been looking for a friend, alright?” Ladybug stopped just short of the beam, back turned. The composure slipped from her shoulders, and her posture slackened.  _ Or rather, she used to be a friend. _ Her hand fell from her face.

She stepped over the obstacle and sat down on it, still faced away.

Alya was nowhere to be seen on the sidewalks.

The shuffling of footsteps met her ears, and her head lifted. Chat loomed over her.

“Have you tried using the tracker on your yo-yo?”

Realization dawned upon her eyelids.  _ The tracker! _

Ladybug whipped out the device and flipped it open. She located Alya’s phone on the map.

He leaned over, chancing a peek at the screen and spotting the address.

A look of delight spread across her face.

_ Snap! _

She shut the yo-yo and jumped up from her place on the beam, pivoting around to squeeze the living daylights out of him.

They stood there like that for merely a moment, his eyes widened with shock.

“You’re… suffocating… me,” Chat managed to squeak. Pins and needles pricked his fingers.

“Thank you so much, kitty! I owe you one,” she said, releasing him.

He gasped for air.

“Bye!” she shouted, tugging on the string.

Ladybug had already swung out of earshot by the time the winded cat caught his breath.

“Hold your whiskers! I have to tell you something!” Chat finally shouted, and he looked around. His ears drooped when he noted her absence.

A touch of pink brushed across his cheeks. 

Emerald irises lowered to meet a black pair of boots standing on a shingled roof, alone, and he smiled matter-of-factly before slinking into the alleyway just off the edge.

Chat exhaled. “Claws in!”

The disguise unwound into a thread of energy. It sewed itself into a minute, cat-like creature. 

The kwami shot daggers at the blonde the instant he informed him of the news.

“You forgot to confess?!”

“... Maybe? But it’s fine,” Adrien insisted. “I think I know where she’s headed.”

“Where?”

“The bakery.”

Plagg waited half a moment, and he stared at Adrien, blinking several times. He turned his back and hovered towards the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?!” Adrien whispered in a hushed shout, shocked.

“The bakery,” he replied simply, not bothering to face the boy as he continued on his way.

“Wait!”

The kwami stopped, wheeling around.

“I don't think it’s fair for me to just barge into her house like that,” the blond said. “Another time would be better… Yeah. Another time... Let's go home.”

“Giving up already? No one ever said life was fair,” Plagg retorted before exiting the alleyway. He turned the corner and vanished.

Adrien panicked. “Wait!”

A little head peaked from around the wall. “Is that the sound of your mind changing?”

“Uh,” he said, chickening out at the last moment. “No. Nevermind.”

“Oh, okay,” the kwami replied. “Please, excuse me while I go tell the love of your life that you loathe her.” He disappeared.

Adrien’s eyes widened as he took a sharp intake of breath. “No!”

The miniature cat reappeared, a smug grin residing on his face. He beamed with mischief. “What was that?”

The teen sighed, hanging his head in disbelief and shame. “I’m coming with you.”

“Great!” Plagg exclaimed, lighting up with triumph. He flew behind the boy and collided with the space in between his shoulder blades, ushering him forward. “Now lead the way; I have no idea where to go.”

Adrien whipped around and stabbed the kwami with his pupils. He peeled away one side of his over shirt and glanced at the mischief, then at the inside pocket, alternating between the two to get the point across.

The kwami flew inside with a lingering reluctance, allowing the blond to finally take off. He rounded the corner.

“Did you give her the right ones?” Tom asked his wife. Concern laced his words.

“Yes, dear. Pistachio was the kind she shared with Alya when they first became friends, was it not?” Sabine replied.

“It was. I remember making those on her first day back at school, so it has to be.”

“I hope this works.” Her mother pursed her lips in anticipation, covering them with closed fingers as she gazed through the glass of the front door. “I don't think I've seen them fight like this before.”

After becoming aware that their daughter was, in fact, Paris’ famous superheroine, Marinette’s parents dashed to the side window to witness what would become the besties’ first ever fight. Knowing Alya, Sabine had made her way to the front desk, expecting her arrival.

It was just to her luck that her husband had made a fresh batch of pistachio macarons, and a plan had worked itself into her mind by the time the ombré haired girl had run into the shop, face strewn with tears. But now, all she could do was hope that it would all play out as planned.

_ Ting! _

The bakery door swung open, allowing sunlight to flood across the tile. A shadow obstructed the flow as a figure stepped into the room.

_ Clck. _

It closed.

“There’s a little surprise waiting for you in your room, Marinette.”

Ladybug gaped at her in surprise.  _ How did she--? _ Then she deadpanned in realization.  _ The live stream. _

The girl walked over to her mother and enveloped her in a hug. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“Hey,” Tom laughed. You didn't forget your father now, did you?”

“Haha.” She gave him a hug as well. “Thanks, dad.”

“No problem. It’s going to get better, alright?”

She nodded, but she was still a little unsure. “Alright. Here I go.”

They watched their daughter as she turned the doorknob and pulled, disappearing behind the door just as it slid shut behind her.

She reached the staircase below the trap door to the attic. 

“Spots off!” A pink wave of electricity washed over her. Tikki landed in her palms.

The closer she got, the more of a struggle each step became. Her hand gripped the railing tighter as she battled the silent voice roaring at her with anxiety and beating her chest with heartbeats the size of her fears.

“It's okay, Marinette! You can do this!” Tikki encouraged.

She nodded in response.

Determination guided her up through the door and brought her foot onto the floor of her room. Then it ditched her.

Instantly Marinette ducked, closing the trap door with her and stumbling back a few steps.

Alya was settled on the corner of the chaise, faced away. A pastry box turned over in her fingertips. She heard the creaking of hinges and turned around, not missing the flurry of blue hair escaping underneath the entrance as it shut.

Her eyes rolled and she rose from her spot, strolling over to her friend’s hideout and pulling the handle open.

Marinette was shrunken into herself, covering her eyes. She lowered a shy pinky and peaked though.

The ombré snickered, stifling the outburst with a hand. Inevitably it broke into a giggle, becoming more and more animate until she was completely convulsing with laughter. 

“I’m sorry,” Alya gasped from her position on the floor. “I… hah… couldn't… haa sto--hahahhaha… sto-hahp myself!” She continued to roll around, cackling and gaping for air. “Hahahaha… I… haha… can't! haaahahah breath!”

Marinette, meanwhile, was looking very offended and embarrassed. The bluenette half-glared at the laughing mess of a girl dying on the floor. “Are you done yet?”

“H-hhhaaa… Help! …haaaaha” Alya gasped, “me!” She clutched the box of pastries to her chest. Laughter erupted from her mouth, and she flailed around helplessly.

The giggles finally died down and she let out a sigh, releasing the last of her worries with it as she sat up. Strands of hair were strewn all over her face. She blew a few to the side, only to have them fall back into place. “Okay. Now I am.”

Marinette continued to deadpan. “Whatever you do, don't laugh.”

“Stop that! You’ll actually make me laugh again!” Alya exclaimed in panic, the snickers already bubbling to the surface as she pointed an accusing finger.

The bluenette smiled, hating herself a bit as she began to giggle as well.

Soon the both of them were dying of laughter.

The ombré teen was the first to calm down, the other one following suit.

Except, well, that didn't exactly last very long.

It was eventual that their uncontrollable guffaws would come to a stop, and when it did, Alya stood up and beckoned her friend over to the chaise. “Come, come.” 

She began to fumble with the top of the pastry box as they plopped down on the edge of the cushion.

Finally it popped open, and she clutched a macaron in her hand. The teen grinned as she broke it in two, and crumbs scattered across the floor boards. She offered a half to Marinette, her grin only widening. “Alya.”

Eyes glittering with remembrance, the bluenette’s expression turned into a full-out smile, reaching from ear to ear. Her fingers closed around her half. She carefully took it away as tears began to spill from her eyes, and she played along. “Marinette.”

The teen began to bawl, not bothering to eat the cookie as she glomped her best friend.

Alya laughed lightly and rolled her eyes, patting her back. “Let it out girl, just let it out.”

Marinette sniffled, straightening back up and recomposing herself. Her teeth sunk into the pistachio macaron, and she munched quietly on the pastry, letting its delicious flavor melt in her mouth. She swallowed and began beaming like a child.

Alya looked at her inquiringly, chewing on her own piece of cookie.

The bluenette held out a pinky. “Best friends?”

She snorted at the childish gesture, yet she still hooked her pinky with her bff’s and downed the rest of the macaron. “You know it.”

“Marinette, are you ready to leave now?” Tikki said as she emerged out of nowhere.

“Not yet.”

Alya looked horrified. “What the heck is that?! Some kind of bug?”

“That’s what I thought when I first saw her, too. But  _ she _ ,” the bluenette said, gesturing to the red, spotted creature hovering near her head, “is a kwami. Kwamis grant magical powers. Her name’s Tikki, and she’s the reason I can transform into Ladybug.”

“Wow. Hi, Tikki.”

“Hi, Alya.”

The ombré squealed. “She’s so cute! Oh my  _ gosh _ ! I could just punch her wittle cheeks!” She turned to Marinette. “But how does she know my name?”

“Oh, well, she comes with me everywhere I go. So she’s  _ bound _ to see and hear almost everything that  _ I _ do.”

“Yup. I give her a lot of advice, as well. Marinette’s improved a lot since she first became Ladybug,” Tikki said, smiling to herself as she plopped onto a spot on Marinette’s shoulder.

“Awe, thanks, Tikki. That means a lot to me.”

“Wait. Hold up. So she knows about your crush on Adrien?”

“Obviously.”

Adrien’s eyes were squeezed shut, his hand resting on the wood of the bakery’s front door.  _ Here goes nothing… _

The pastry box Alya had brought up held a whole dozen of macarons, and the two had begun to snack on them, chatting about superhero biz and just anything else they wanted to catch up on.

“So, what do you think Chat Noir will do now that he knows who you are?” Alya asked.

Marinette coughed on her cookie…

He pushed open the door, doing the same with his eyelids as he stepped onto the tile.

_ Ting! _

Marinette’s parents looked up from behind the front desk…

“Probably stalk me,” the bluenette replied.

“Hello, Mr. Agreste,” Tom said, greeting the boy.

“Hey, since I revealed a big secret of mine, can  _ you _ tell  _ me _ something I don't already know?” Marinette laughed.

“Have you come to see Marinette?” Sabine asked.

“Oh… um, y-yes. May I?”

“Aaannd what would that be?” Alya asked.

“Hmm…” Mr. Dupain-Cheng tapped his chin.

“What happened, you know, between you and Nino when you two were in that cage?”

Alya blushed profusely. “Well, we kinda, um, uh…well…”

“Only,” Tom began, “if you take a few croissants.” The man grinned and brought a tray into view.

“Spit it out Alya, I wanna know! Come on, it couldn't have been that bad, could it?”

“Well,” the flushed girl began, before babbling at a hundred words per minute, “we kinda sorta made out.”

Marinette gasped. “No way. Really?”

Alya fiddled with her fingers, looking down as her face turned into a tomato. “Yeah…”

Adrien’s face lit up like a kid’s in a candy store.

“Yes, please do,” Mrs. Dupain-Cheng added. “You’ll find her on the fourth floor.”

The blond hoarded a bunch of the delicacies in his arms and began hiking up to Marinette’s room, mouth full of food.

“Hey, wanna see something? I just got it recently,” the bluenette said as she rested her head on her bestie’s shoulder.

Alya’s head leaned on Marinette’s. “Sure, why not?”

“I don't know.”

“That was rhetorical,” the ombré snickered.

She sighed and shrugged with her free shoulder, removing a watch from her pocket. It's chain dangled from the metal loop at the top before her eyes.

“Cool. A pocket-sized clock. …Why are you showing me this again?”

“It’s a bit more than just a clock, Alya. It’s a time-traveling device. Here--look at this.” Marinette flipped open the cover, and everything froze around her.

It was silent.

Completely silent.

Nothing stirred; not a single movement.

The only sound in the room was the beating of her own heart, and the air as it moved in and out of her lungs.

In her blind spot stood Adrien, still as a statue, face (and arms) full of croissants as his foot hovered over the floor of her room.

Oblivious to her crush, she twisted the knob on the top counterclockwise, and the digits flashed a bright red. A breeze blew back her hair as the world was painted white. Marinette lost all feeling in her limbs.

She felt nauseous, her brain numb. Her senses returned slowly, and the first thing she felt was a pin of pain that pricked her scalp. “Ouch!” She flinched.

“Sorry! It was an accident,” Tikki blurted out in apology.

“That’s okay,” Marinette said, head still reeling. She stood in front of the vanity.

The kwami flew onto the pink surface by the sink when it had finally loosened.

“Thanks.” Her fingers pulled at the hair bands once again and found that they slid out with ease.

“It was no problem,” she replied, before heaving open one of the drawers by the handle. It exposed a pink brush, which Marinette lifted warily from the compartment. It ran through her hair without trouble, except for the occasional hitch of a knot. They were almost all removed when Tikki asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Tikki, I am,” the bluenette answered before continuing. “In fact, I already  _ did _ do this.” She parted the strands into two parts and fastened the halves into pigtails.

“Oh… How did it go?”

“It went well.” A pair of perfect ponytails dangled near her neck. “Okay, I think I'm ready. Tikki, spots on!” The room was filled with a blinding light as her kwami spiraled into her speckled earrings and Marinette morphed into her superhero counterpart.

Ladybug stood in her place, battle stance ready. Her body relaxed and she settled into a calmer position.

She peered through the mask at herself in the mirror.

“Okay.” Determination filled her voice.

_ Splat. _

From beside her came the balling of toddler. His ice cream sat on the sidewalk, cone up. It’s melted cream dribbled into the cracks. The child, appalled at the abrupt appearance of Paris’ iconic hero, had tears streaming down the cheeks of his poor, horrified face.

_ I forgot about this… _

“Lucky Charm!”

His chubby hands covered his eyes, blocking his vision as he stumbled blindly forwards.

“Wait! I got you another ice cream cone! Come back!”

Her attempt failed, and the toddler only had motive to flee faster.

He ran into the street.

A pair of arms scooped him up and out of the way as a car screeched to a stop right where he’d just been. His feet returned to the ground. The absence of the hit was startling, yet he still trembled in terror.

Gaps formed between his fingers and he peaked through them.

“You forgot to get your ice cream,” she said. From behind her back came a waffle cone of Rocky Road, which she handed to him. She ruffled the little guy’s hair, then straightened back up to leave.

“Wait!” the child exclaimed. Ladybug wheeled around to look at him. “Um… thank you! I promise I won’t do it again!”

“Pinky swear?” A small smile bloomed on her face as she giggled.

“Yeah!” They locked pinkies. Her miraculous beeped.

“Okay, I gotta go. Stay safe!” The spotted hero bid the toddler farewell before swinging above the rooftops and out of sight.

“Bye bye, Ladybug!” He grinned and began devouring his icy treat.

_ There she is. _

Alya Césaire sat on a bench in the shade, hidden underneath the leafy canopy.

Ladybug touched down to the ground in the park. Each sidestep announced itself with a small crackle of the gravel as she crept along the bars until she was finally behind her friend. A branch cracked under her foot, and she froze.

“Wha- who’s there?” Alya asked. Her head turned.

“Oh, it’s just me.”

“Oh my  _ gosh _ , girl. Marinette, you scared me so much! Since when were you so qui-” Alya pivoted her head in her friend’s direction, but cut herself off when an unexpected visitor stood in front of her in the place of who she thought was her best friend.

“Ladybug! How did you get there?” Alarm overflowed her words.

“I flew.”

“Oh. Well, mind if I bother you with an interview?” She stuck the seven inch screen in the superhero’s face, revealing a single post. “I had fans ask questions they’d want me to say to you if I could get another one.”

Her miraculous beeped.  _ Three dots left.  _ “Sure. Why not?”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much!” Alya pulled up the camera app on her phone and tapped the “record” button. “Ready?” she asked.

“Yep."

…

" _ UnderAgreste769 _ wants to know if anyone’s ever written you a poem.”

_ Oh my gosh, that's right. He follows the Ladyblog! _ Her cheeks turned pink merely at the thought of him. Butterflies bubbled to the surface again. She had to resist the urge to squeal with joy. “A  _ poem _ ?” A deep fuchsia stained her face. “Um…”

“Ooh, I believe we have an answer, Ladybloggers! You  _ have _ had a poem written to you,  _ haven't _ you?” Alya teased.

Adrien Agreste's eyes were glued to the screen as he called to his kwami. “Plagg! Can you believe this?” He spun the rolling-chair around in a circle of triumph. “She read my poem!”

“Slow down. Don’t get ahead of yourself. The poem might not’ve even have been from  _ you _ in the first place!” Plagg said.

Adrien grumbled under his breath and ignored him. His eyes returned to the screen, intent on watching the interview.

“ _ Anonymous _ asked; ‘Have you ever tried telling your parents who you are?’” Alya continued.

Her blush had finally died down by the time she said, “Well, if I did, I don’t think I’d have been  _ grounded _ for never being in the right place at the right time. Hahah, you know me, always running around to help cats down from trees and stuff.” With a gloved hand, Ladybug scratched the back of her neck. A sheepish grin spread across her face.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine how your parents would react.” Her friend laughed at the possible scenarios.   
Marinette’s mother and father stood side by side, watching the ongoing video.

"Remember when we grounded Marinette because she was always late?" Sabine asked. "What if… she had good reason for being so?"

"Well, we'd never ground our little girl. Unless, of course, it was under the right conditions. We did the right thing, honey," Tom said.

She turned to her husband, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t think…”

“Nah. Marinette? She’d tell us.”

“You’re right.” A chuckle forced its way out of her mouth. “What was I thinking? She’d  _ definitely _ tell us if she was Ladybug, right?”

“No doubt about it.”

Their heads turned back to the livestream.

Her miraculous beeped.

“You need to go already?” Alya asked.

“No, it’s fine. I can stay a bit longer,” she said. "But since this’ll have to be cut short, have you got any questions of your own?”

“Oh, you know it, LB,” she replied. “Are there any hints you can give us about your true identity?”

"Well, I have the  _ best _ bff any friend could ask for. Once  _ she _ figures it out, you'll  _ know _ who  _ I _ am," Ladybug said. “Also; there’s one more thing I wanna do before I go. May I?”

“Go ahead. No one’s stopping you.”

Hesitantly, she bent over and whispered into the phone’s microphone. “Bye, Adrien.”

The bluenette straightened back up, clearing her throat to bring it back up to regular pitch. "Anyways, I gotta split before I change back. Save ya later!" Ladybug launched herself over the horizon of edifices and out of sight.

The blond’s face was a tomato. “Bye,” he whispered back.

Plagg thwacked the lovestruck boy in the forehead. “She can’t even hear you!”

“Hey!” Adrien glared at the kwami.

“You’re so hopeless.”

“Am not,” he argued.

“Are too.”

The two were deadlocked in a staring contest. Adrien, of course, was the first to blink.

“Hah! I won! And my trophy?” Plagg opened his mouth expectantly, eyes closed.

He launched a piece of Camembert at the unsuspecting kwami, who exclaimed in surprise.

The little cat swooped the cheese from the floor, threw the chunk in the air, and caught it in his mouth. He swallowed it whole and sighed with content, patting his belly. “You’re such a sore loser.”

Adrien narrowed his eyes at him. Plagg burped in his face.

“Ugh, gross! Get that disgusting stench away from me,” the teen said, holding his nose. He tried to swat away the smell with a hand, only to no avail.

“Mew-fufu. That’s Camembert for you. Best cheese ever.” He purposefully exhaled in Adrien’s face, who then got up and moved to the other side of the room. Plagg followed him. “Hhhad enough?”

The blond retched, blurting a nasally “yes,” and hurrying over to the widow to take a deep breath. “Fresh air!” he gasped aloud.

Ladybug dropped into the cover of an alleyway near the bakery. “Spots off!”

Tikki landed in her palms.

“Fresh air!” came a faint voice from above.

“What was that?” the kwami wondered. She peered up and found the source. “Oh, look, there’s Adrien.”

“Aah!” Marinette threw her back against the wall. The girl looked around frantically, her gaze darting left and right. “Where?!”

“Marinette, he’s not going to know that you were the one who talked to him through the speakers. You’re out of disguise, remember? He won't recognize you. It’s okay. But we should go before he sees us.”

“Phew. Thanks, Tikki,” she sighed, relieved, before unclasping her bag. The kwami flew inside, and she took off.

Marinette relaxed into her swivel chair.

“You don't think I gave Alya too much of a hint, do you?”

“Well, it’s kinda hard to tell. I mean, if she does end up figuring it out, you can always go back and fix it.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I really wish I could just tell her directly, and not turn back time.”

“Come on, Marinette. You know you can't do that.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just--I don't think I should keep this from her forever. I mean, she’s my  _ best friend _ .” Her eyes traveled to a piece of paper folded up on the desk. Tikki watched, a troubled expression scribbled all over her face, as the bluenette plunked a lazy hand atop it, sliding it over to herself. Using her fingers, she opened up the little note and reread the message for about the billionth time.  _ Macaron. Why of all things would it be  macaron? _


	4. I Can't Lie to Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh nooo I hate this chapter.  
> Tw: drunkenness

Sunday’s natural light shone into the dark room through a round window high up on the wall. Innocent butterflies took flight, filling the room like white confetti.

“Dark wings, rise!”

A masked man stepped into the beautiful rays, contaminating their purity. He had a new trick up his sleeve, and the effects of it would befall the very next person to speak of their precious heroes.

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

A perplexed blunette sat on her bed, legs crossed and mind focused intently on a discombobulating difference. The digital display of her phone read one time, but her pocket watch portrayed another. Four minutes it had been since she had started comparing the two. Marinette’s eyes flickered from one to the other.

After the fifth minute materialized on the screen, her gaze met ten in the past on the stopwatch. She blinked several times, dumbfounded.  _ Ten minutes back? That can’t be right…  _ She rubbed her eyes and stared widely through the transparent glass at the hands on the timepiece. The seconds ticked by, continuing as if nothing had happened.

It’d been a whole week since her little interview with Alya, and her friend had taken the time to create a checklist of the possible Ladybugs based off of the data she had.

_ “It could be anyone in Paris!” the ombré exclaimed that Friday after school as they walked down the front steps of Collège Françoise Dupont. “But she said I’d know immediately when her best friend finds out, so obviously this ‘best friend’ is who I have to find first.” _

_ “I guess.” Marinette sighed, fisting the timepiece in her pocket.  _ Should I turn it back?

_ “That’s it. I’m erasing this list. You’re helping  _ me _ make a new one of everyone I know.” She grabbed the blunette by the hand and dragged her the rest of the way to the bakery. _

Her mother’s voice resonated up through the floorboards to greet her ears. “Marinette! Could you please be a dear and come downstairs?”

“Okay, I’ll be right there!” Marinette shoved the enigma in her pocket and dared to jump all of the stairs from her bed and straight to the bottom floor of her room. She stuck the landing, finally, and wide triumph spread across her lips as she rose out of a crouch.

However, she couldn't say the same about her leap from the edge of the trap-door opening. Her feet slipped on the edge of the bottom step, sending her off balance and crashing her head into the bookshelf. She rebounded and landed on her bum. The hardcover-bound pages toppled off their wooden perches only to bounce with painful thumps onto her scalp, and mere milliseconds had passed before she was buried in a pile of books.

“Do you need help?” her father asked. He stood by the railing, holding a tray of croissants. Tantalizing scents of sugar and the sweetness of bread filled the air.

It was clear she did, but she decided to handle it on her own. “No thanks, Papa, I got this!” she replied with an air of determination before mumbling, “Or at least I think I do.” Marinette moved a hand to rest on her forehead, and she began to push herself off the ground. Her socked feet found no traction on the floor, and soon she was scrambling to get a hold onto something,  _ anything _ . The bookshelf seemed adequate (although it sent a few more books on a nosedive), and she bared a sheepish smile, holding up a finger.  _ Wait a moment. Give me like five tries to get this right. _

Her father watched awkwardly as she picked up all the books and slowly put them back in place.

The last one found it’s way onto the shelf, guided by her hand. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Sabine walked through the opening from the kitchen, and stopped to stand next to her husband, hands clasped behind her back. “Now that we’re all here, follow me into the kitchen; there’s something we need to discuss with you, Marinette.” Her voice was firm, and she spun around and stepped back out of the room. Tom walked after her, but only after offering a small smile to his daughter.

A worried expression crossed the girl’s face.  _ Do they know? _ Stress crossed her mind for a few moments longer, but Marinette shook her head and entered the kitchen.

_ I have to keep my composure. _

Her parents were removing plates from the cabinets, and they placed a croissant to rest on each one; there were three.

“Sit down,” said her mother.

The teen did as she was told, though hesitantly so, and her father slid a plate across the island to her.

“Marinette. Is there  _ anything _ you would like to tell us?”

Widening her eyes, she shook her head. “N-no, of course not—but I would like to tell you stuff,  _ obviously _ , but it’s not like I’m hiding anything that I haven't told you—why would I do that? I mean–well– …no?” She visibly cringed, knowing full-well how expertly her parents could decipher her reaction.

“Alright then, honey,” Sabine replied. Her words were laced with an unsettling sweetness, and Marinette shifted in her seat. “But just know that if there is  _ anything _ you would like to inform us about, we are always here for you.”

The blunette gulped. There was a small tug on her heartstrings, telling her she  _ should _ really say something about it, but she pushed it down. “Okay.”

“We aren't trying to scare you, so stop being so tense. Take a bite of your croissant; relax,” Tom reassured, before continuing with a lively tone of voice. “Or as the cool kids say it, ‘take a chill pill!’”

Marinette had sunken her teeth into the delicacy before hearing the last part, and giggled after he’d finished saying it. But some of the bread was sucked down the wrong pipe, and she spluttered and coughed, and her giggles ceased as her face went red.

“Oh, dear! Marinette, are you okay?” her mother fretted.

“Water,” the bluenette rasped.

Sabine was quick as she snatched a cup from the cupboards, switched on the tap, and pushed the glass into her daughter’s hand, some of the water sloshing onto the island. The teen eagerly chugged every last drop before exhaling with relief as she placed the empty cup on the table with a little  _ clink! _ Tom drew a towel across the mess, letting it soak up the liquid.

“Are you alright?” her parents inquired nearly simultaneously.

“Yeah. Thank you for that,” Marinette said, relieved, and she patted her mouth with a napkin to dry it.

“It was no problem,” mother assured, before turning to her husband. “Tom, I think we’d better think of a word to use when one of us is in trouble.”

“Mom, I don't think that’s necessary.”

“Honey, it's absolutely necessary. You almost choked to death!” Sabine remarked, although her real reason was quite different.

“I can't say anything when I’m choking, you know,” Marinette stated.

“Right. Well, it can still be used over calls. If you say it, we’ll track the location of your phone and come pick you up, does that sound good?”

“Sounds,” the bluenette said, and she paused to swallow.  _ Stalkerish. _ “Great!” Her voice wasn't too convincing, but she continued just to cover it up. “So, what do you think the word should be?”

Tom was the first to reply. “Ladybug!”

Marinette’s eyes widened as her heartbeat jumped.  _ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

Something black slid across the surface of the wall, unseen by all in the room.

Sabine offered her husband a smile that refused to climb into her eyes, and said, “It’s  _ not _ going to be ‘Ladybug’.”

Another dashed across the floor.

“Aww, why not?” Tom complained.

“Because it is simply too obvious. Saying the name of a superhero might stir up some suspicion!”

“Mom’s right, dad,” the blunette said.

Her father sighed, and looked around for other inspiration. His eyes landed on a green pastry. “How about macaron?”

Marinette’s attention immediately drifted to the piece of paper lying on her desk upstairs. She could picture it clearly in her mind.  _ Why, of all things, would it say ‘macaron’? And why is it that the word for trouble just happens to be what was written on that note? _

“Hmm,” the mother contemplated. “It seems perfect. Macarons are always the answer.”

Suddenly her parents went silent, and their bodies stiffened. Marinette looked up and gawked at what she saw.

Their pupils had expanded to cover the whites of their eyes, and they began to turn their heads to look around in unison, observing the surroundings, until finally both sets of eyes settled to look at Marinette.

She looked horrified, and she didn’t know what else to do but to climb out of her seat and to back up, to back away, and she did so, slowly.

“We don’t know, sir,” they spoke, their gaze following her every move.

An inky fog escaped from their mouths before condensing into shadows and fleeing through the windows across any surface the ebony forms could reach.

The blunette whipped around and pounded up the stairs to the trap door, and she slammed it shut as she hopped into her room. She flew up the ladder and threw open her covers, leaping onto her bed. Her hands grasped for the duvet, and it pulled her into darkness as she began to hyperventilate.  _ Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. _ It took a while before her breathing began to slow, returning to normal. She relaxed into the comfort of her mattress.

“Marinette,” spoke a small voice.

She screamed, breaking out of the pitch-black shelter and scooting as far away as she could from the source. Her back hit the railing behind her, and she slipped right over it. Another shriek escaped her lips as she fell, and the girl braced herself for the coming pain.

But it never arrived.

“Gotcha!”

Marinette felt her shirt tighten around her as her bangs just barely brushed the wood floor of her room. The pressure built up in her temple as blood rushed to it, turning her face red. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she opened one slowly, teeth still gritted. She gasped at how close the ground was, and flailed around to put her hands to the floorboards.

“Are you okay, Marinette?”

“Tikki?” The bluenette was relieved, and she let out a breath she was unaware of holding.

“That was a close one. You should be more careful next time.”

Marinette could feel the weight slowly shift to her palms as her kwami lowered her. The tension in her shirt was released, and she let the balls of her feet land square onto safety. Too shaken to stand up, she sat criss-crossed on the floor and looked up at the little ladybug floating before her. She shook her head and replied, “I know, I know. I just didn’t know it was you.”

“What happened, anyway? You seem very jumpy, and you rushed in here very fast,” Tikki said. She was worried.

The blunette’s expression went grim, her eyebrows furrowing. “I think my parents were just possessed.”

Tikki gasped, and her expression became distant. “Okay.”

_ ‘Okay’? I just saw my mother and father being taken over by some… some evil force, and all I get is an ‘okay’?  _ Marinette was confused. “...Tikki?”

She didn’t respond.

“Tikki.”

Her kwami snapped back into reality, a smile now plastered to her face. “Yes, Marinette?”

The teen was taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. “Uh… I-it’s nothing.”

Facade not leaving the ladybug’s features, she blinked several times. “Okay.”

_ What is going on in that little head of hers that’s got her so distracted? And why is it that she wants to hide it from me? Has this happened before? _

_ “Oh oh oh, life’s got me spinning round,” _ her phone rang from her bed. 

“I think I’d better answer that.” Marinette stood and jogged up the ladder.

“Go ahead,” Tikki said absent-mindedly.

_ “Oh oh oh, my feet are off the ground—” _

She rummaged around for the mobile device.

_ “Oh oh oh, and when the sun goes down, you better hang around!” _

_ There it is. _ The screen was lit with the caller identification; ‘ _ Alya Césaire’ _ . Snatching it up from underneath the pillow, she tapped the green pick-up button in the corner and raised it to her ear.

“Hey Alya.”

“Aayyyy, yup, that's me. Totally me. Why wouldn't it be me— _ I  _ called you. Wait. I called you, right?” Alya rambled.

“Um, hahah, yeah, you did call me,” Marinette replied.  _ Why is she acting so strange? _

“Okay, good. ‘Cause you gotta get over here, girl. This street is lit. This street is  _ so _ lit, I think I'm gonna cross it.” Her voice sounded light and airy.

_ What? _ “Alya, where are you?”

She could hear the shuffling of footsteps as her friend turned around to look at the nearest sign of where she was.

“Uh, I dunno. Everything’s blurry. I guess all I know is that I’m in front of some kind of bar.” Alya giggled and hiccupped.

_ Wait. Is she drunk? _ “Have you been drinking?”

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’. “Just walking. Forgot why, though. Anyways, I'm gonna cross this street. Should I use the crosswalk?”

“Alya, do  _ not _ cross that street.”

But her friend didn't listen.

“Nah, the crosswalk’s too far. Jaywalking is fine. I don't even have to wait for a light. Everyone will  _ obviously _ see me. I have the right of way, since I’m a pedestrian.”

“Alya, whatever you do, don't cross that street!” Marinette pleaded.

“Hahah, bye,  _ mom _ .”

The call ended, and the whites of Marinette’s eyes became a _lot_ more visible. But she shook all assumptions out of her head. _My best friend can’t be drunk._ _You can’t get drunk from just_ walking _, can you? I mean, she was just walking… like a… normal person… like everyone else. An interruption in daily life. One that’s out of the ordinary._ She groaned, pulling at her hair. “Oh my gosh. First, my parents get possessed, and now there's an akuma running around zapping people drunk. How could this day get _any_ worse?”

_ CRASH!! _

The floor jerked, and she heard exclamations from her parents downstairs.

_ Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump! _

Tikki took a wild dash for cover just as the trap-door to her room opened with a  _ bang, _ earning the blunette’s full attention. Tom and Sabine rushed into the room.

“Marinette, we have to go. Now,” her mother said.

“What happened?” the teen asked.

“Macaron. A car crashed into the side of the house. Now let’s  _ go,  _ Marinette,” her father insisted.

She looked at both of them, concerned.  _ I hope they’re alright. _ “...Okay.”

The family rushed out of the house.

“Wait. Mom, dad, I think I forgot something back in my room.”

“You will  _ not _ go back in there,” Tom demanded.

“Let her go,” Sabine said. She held a knowing look, although she was still unsure.

Marinette thanked her before dashing back through the front door. Or at least what was left of it.

There was an enormous, gaping hole in the wall; a huge chunk of the door was torn away, as well, the rest of it dangling from the top hinges of the door-frame. It was a hit and run. Bricks were scattered on the floor of the bakery and out on the pavement.

Tikki was still inside the bedroom. She’d come out of cover, and she paced back and forth in the air.  _ I’m going to have to tell her at some point. But for now, she has enough cookies on her plate. _

“Tikki! Where are you?” Marinette called out.

“Why did you say that?” her father questioned. He was growing impatient. It had been about a whole minute since she had bolted back inside the house.

“I have already talked to you about this. Ladybug has been grounded before,” her mother said.

“Every kid gets grounded once in their lifetime,” he retorted.

“She got grounded for not being in the right place at the right time. It sounds like the reason we grounded our Marinette.”

Tom was only a bit convinced, but that was quickly fading away.

“Spots on!”

The room was illuminated with a pink light. Her kwami spiraled into one of her earrings, which became red and sprouted a quincunx of dots, each flashing white in turn. She floated her hands down over her face and swished them apart across her eyes, fabricating her mask in an adagio. Marinette then turned and threw her arm out to the side as the glove of her suit fastened onto it. It then enveloped the rest of her body, hooking a yo-yo onto her waist. Raising both arms, she let them rise and fall in the air, lifting her leg as she reached for the floor. She then curled it behind her and pirouetted. The blunette then flared her wrist from high over her head to the floor. Standing up from the position, she lifted her ankle to her palms, which were crossed above her, and she jetted into a battle stance.

“Alright. Let’s go find this akuma.” Ladybug zipped up the staircase to the nearest exit.

“Not only that, but Ladybug said that she had an amazing friend, and that as soon as  _ that _ friend knew, Alya would know. That wouldn't be possible unless that friend was Alya. How could she be so sure, otherwise?” Sabine explained, and her husband was convinced. “Look.” She pointed to the balcony of their home, or rather, of their daughter’s room, where Ladybug was closing the trap door. “Honey, our little Marinette is a superhero.”

Adrien lounged on the white sofa of his room, masked lover on his mind.

Okay, maybe she wasn't his  _ lover,  _ but he loved her. She just didn't love  _ him _ . Or at least he thought she didn't. Ap _ purr _ ently she’d received his Valentine’s Day letter. 

“Ladybug’s read my poem,” he purred, blushing, letting his back slide across the pillow behind him. His shoulder landed softly on the couch cushion. Adrien hugged her heart-shaped reply to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and bringing his knees up onto the couch.

“It’s been a week since you found that out for sure. Besides, didn't you say you threw it in the trash? She would have had to fish it out to read it. Get over it already,” Plagg said. He munched on a slice of cheese and mumbled to himself, “Oh man, do I wish this was Camembert.”

“I can't,” the lovesick boy sighed, not really listening. The subtle hint at her true identity just passed over his head. The sleek surface of the couch was silky-soft against his cheek, and he felt so warm and comfortable in his thought bubble of adoration for his lady.

_ Screeeeeeeeech! _

Plagg’s smirk fell, and he pouted. “Aww, I was in the mood for some Camembert!”

Adrien’s eyes whipped open, and he hopped off of the couch, his actions stirring the air and causing it to cool his skin. The warmth was gone, and soon enough, he stood in front of the window of his bedroom and pressed his face to the glass, eyes darting in both directions.

It was quite the calamity.

Far down the street on his left honked a car, and the puzzle piece to the driver’s anger was a teen. An ombré teen, at that.

Alya wobbly placed one foot in front of the other as she waddled across the middle of the street. She’d decided  _ not _ to use the crosswalk again. Her first time had been lucky. But this one? Not so much.

Another car sped down the street behind the first. It was much bigger, much heavier, and it showed no signs of stopping. The first, smaller one fled forward, forgetting the jaywalker.

A man stood on top of a parked car, watching the scene with a hateful glint in his eyes, a bottle of liquor in his fist. He looked like a normal citizen, dressed in a red shirt and jeans, but the purple mask on his face portrayed otherwise.

Adrien unglued his face from the clear screen and turned to Plagg.

“Nuh uh. Don’t look at me, I’m not going anywhere until I get some Camembert,” the kwami said as he continued to float in the air. His whiskers hung near his face, one of the minuscule bulbs at the end lingering in front of his eyes. He stared at it, cross-eyed, before blowing at it a couple of times to float it out of the way, only to no avail.

“Camembert, you say?” he replied as he played along. They had been through this so many times, the request was almost more than expected.

“Yes. And it has to be creamy. The last one you gave me was too dry.” Plagg tried once more to rid his vision of the nuisance until he finally gave up, using a paw to swipe it over the back of his head.

Sighing, Adrien shuffled over to his school bag. He bent down and crouched low to the ground, and his hand rummaged through the papers and pencils until it reached the bottom. The exterior of a plastic bag crinkled as his fingers brushed the surface, and he snatched it up. He held it far from his face, stood up and wound around, and, using a pair of fingers to pinch his nose, he unsealed the contents with a single, practiced hand. A pinky pressed against his palm held the bag up as he plucked out a piece with three digits. “Heads up!” he called out nasally. His other palm shifted from holding his nose to underneath the bag of cheese. It dropped into his hand just as he tossed the Camembert to the pocket-sized cat.

Plagg caught it with an air of expertise, performing a little twirl. He popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole, happy that he actually received what he wanted.

Gagging, the blond resealed the air-tight bag and dropped it back into the mix of his school supplies. He stepped to the side and took a breath of clean air before shouting, “Plagg, claws out!”

Mask on, Chat Noir climbed out the window and found his way onto the street near the oncoming traffic, and he propelled himself forward with flashing extensions of his baton. But he stumbled when a despicable voice called out his name.

“Chat Noir! Whatever you do, don't look over here!” the akumatise shouted.

The hero clad in black looked, and the moment he turned his head was the moment the sound of something limp and lifeless hitting the road reached his ears, paired with a  _ screeeetch _ and a  _ crash! _ His head whipped back around.

Ladybug gasped as she watched the scene unfold. She was stationed on top of a building, mortified.

Alya was flattened underneath the petite car, and the pick-up truck behind it had rear-ended the first. The girl was unconscious at best, and the driver, unaware of his crime, hopped out of the front seat to argue with the driver of the one behind him.

She couldn’t hear anything.

She couldn’t see anything. Nothing, all except for the sight of her once-bubbly friend crushed underneath over two-thousand pounds of weight.

A metallic taste, faint but distinct, gathered on her palette; the taste of blood.

The traffic dispersed around the stop in the road, afraid of being blamed and charged. Soon, the streets were empty, with all people gone except for those involved with the accident and the gawking pedestrians rooted into the sidewalk.

Wet globs spilled down Ladybug’s cheeks as she continued to stand, petrified. She acquired a spark of fury in her eyes. “Chat, get close to the car.”

Her partner noticed her presence, pivoted his head around to look at her, and acquired a hint of fear in his own eyes—he’d never seen her like this before, except for once; the day they had met. And it was the same girl in trouble; the same situation, except this time, it was worse. “Okay.”

She launched her yo-yo around a streetlight, and it then wrapped around the automated killing-machine. Using all the strength of the anger flooding through her veins, Ladybug heaved the car up. “Get her out from under there!”

The feline dragged Alya out from underneath the car.

“Alright. I know you might not agree with this, but you need to take her to the hospital immediately. Please? I'm just afraid that the paramedics won't arrive in time, and I don't want Al- I mean—this girl, to die. I don't know if my Miraculous can bring people back to life.” She looked desperate, biting her lip as she delve deep into thought. There was a reason why she didn't want to use time travel to fix this. And it had to do with a very particular note.  _ Why was it the exact same word my parents chose to mean danger? It might not just be a coincidence, and dealing with the possibility of additional danger involving my best friend’s  _ life _ is not something I want to risk. _

“If it will sooth that worried expurression, anything for you, my lady. It’s going to get better, don’t worry,” he replied, and he lifted the battered teenager from the pavement and began carrying her off to the hospital.

She released the yo-yo from it’s hold, letting the car fall with another deafening sound. It’s owner was furious, of course, but the blunette took no heed in his insults to her competence. She was more focused on the akumatized villain; the one who stopped her friend from being saved.  _ It’s his fault. He caused this. _ Her eye twitched as she turned to him, and her irises took on a dark tone.

“One less worthless teen, am I right, or am I right?”

She glared at him, livid, and with a few flicks of her wrist, the aid of her weapon, and the help of a fisted grip, she swung the automobile so that it was hurtling toward him.

Chat sprinted across rooftops, moving as fast as he could. But there was only so long he could stay away from his partner before something might occur. Looking below on the streets for anyone that could possibly help him, his eyes landed on a mop of red hair; Nathaniel Kurtzberg strode across the crosswalk, sketchbook in hand. But of course, Nath, not exactly having the strength of a superhero, would need some help.

Just across the street stood Lila Rossi, who peered into the store window of a wedding cake shop. He hadn’t seen her at school since about a month ago—ever since her first day, she would show up sparsely, refusing to talk at all and keeping mostly to herself. Adrien sometimes caught her staring at him absent-mindedly. She, based on her expression, thought deeply during most of class and didn’t pay very much attention to the lessons. The teacher didn’t call on her, though, which he found a bit strange.

He dropped down from the top of a building and landed on the sidewalk, next to Lila. Chat called out to Nathan. “Hey! Could you come over here? I need a bit of help.”

The ginger’s gaze snapped over to see who was shouting, and his eyes widened upon witnessing the bloodied body of Alya. He gasped. His expression became serious, and he gulped before rushing the rest of the way across the street.

Lila turned as well, only to scream. “Is that the Ladyblog girl? What happened to her?”

“She was run over by a car. There’s actually an akuma fight going on right now.”

“What do you want us to do?” Nathan asked.

“I want you both to take her to the hospital as fast as possible, and to take shelter there as well,” Chat stated. “I need to go back to Ladybug before she falls under the control of whatever is making everyone lose their minds.”

Lila’s expression looked as if she suddenly lost interest.

“Look. I know you don’t like Ladybug, but don’t let that stop you from helping an innocent girl that had nothing to do with what happened that day. She might die if you don’t get there quickly enough.”

“A-alright,” the brunette said, eyebrows furrowing. She turned to Nathaniel. “Tomato head; uh, you take the feet, I take the shoulders. Got it?”

Chat handed Alya to the pair of students and directed them towards the hospital before heading back to the car accident. The wind rushed against his face as he rushed against it, and he was back where he started.

Ladybug was leaping down from her perch when he arrived, and the car that had previously run over the ombré student was placed in an entirely different area. He was still catching up to her when a hand reached warily out from underneath the car, grasping for the bottle, which was several feet away. Neither was aware of this, however.

“Did she make it there safely?” she asked.

“I think so, yeah. She’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Chat said. He avoided the fact that he’d stopped rather short of the destination out of worry for his partner.

Her shoulders relaxed as she let a relieved sigh escape her lips.

A stream of light made a beeline for Ladybug, and it crashed into her, setting her off balance. She looked up, her bluebell irises meeting his, and laughed, “Why are you wearing a cat costume?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh nooo I also hate the next chapter.  
> Tw: drunkenness


	5. I Can't Like Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for drunkenness and abuse

Lila Rossi squinted as she observed the hospital far down the street. Along the pavement’s length on either side of it were two rows of countless, looming edifices. They were like walls on either side of her, and they only seemed to be closing the distance between them. The building she peered at was a few blocks away, maybe even more. The sound of a metal object behind her hitting the concrete of the sidewalk startled her, and she moved to her left, turned, and watched as Chat vaulted over the building and out of sight. Turning back toward Alya, her gaze hardened.

“Tomato head—” she began, but was interrupted.

“I have a n-name,” the boy managed to blurt out. “It’s Nathaniel Kurtzberg.”

A look of humor spread across her face.  _ What a stupid last name. _ The brunette fixed her posture and took a breath of confidence. “What a lovely name.”

“Oh, well, erm—not really—uh, thanks?” His voice quieted with every word until it was barely a whisper of his self-doubt. He became hunched with that single sentence, and he lowered his head to let his bangs fall absent-mindedly in front of his left eye.

“Hey, could you help me lower her to the ground?” she asked, a plan formulating in her mind.

Nathaniel lifted his head to look at her in surprise. “Sure.”

Alya was placed on the ground. Blood was oozing out of her body in various places, and her face was screwed in a look of pain.

Lila stood back up and began walking in the opposite direction.

The ginger was rightfully shocked, his mouth falling open as he couldn’t believe what was happening—that she was actually not going to help.

The brunette stopped, put a hand on her hip, and pulled out her phone. Her foot tapped the ground impatiently after she dialed a three-digit number; one-one-two.

“Paris Police Department, what’s your emergency?” inquired the voice of the phone operator.

“There is a girl who was just run over by a car. Her name is Alya. She was taken out from underneath the wheel and brought to us by Chat Noir. The hospital is only a few blocks away, but I don’t think she’ll make it if we just walk there,” Lila said.

“Miss, it’s a bit strange that he would stop that short of the hospital, but we’ll send an ambulance straight away. What is your name?”

“Lila Rossi. And I’m here with Nathaniel Kar- uh, Kewr- eh, Kurtzberrrg,” she stated, slightly unsure of how to pronounce his last name. With a hand, she scratched the back of her neck.

“Alright. We’ll get there straight away. Bye.”

“Bye.” She hung up the phone and promptly placed it back in her jacket pocket before turning to where the red-headed boy had just been seconds before. His absence startled her, and she turned around fully, looking around frantically before spotting him just meters away. 

He was strolling out of the nearest shop, flipping through a wad of napkins as he moved forth. Lifting his head, his irises stared at her for a few seconds before rushing to the growing pool of blood on the ground. He kneeled at Alya’s side, pressing the absorbents to her wounds to stop the bleeding temporarily.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, focusing on patting down a single paper towel onto a gouge on the girl’s forehead.

“There’s no way I’m carrying a bloody girl all the way to the hospital,” she stated bluntly.  _ It would get all over my clothing—I couldn’t let Adrien see me in such a preposterous mess! Are you kidding me? _

“You’re right. So much could go wrong in just a few blocks. Plus, an ambulance  _ would _ get here faster.”

She shifted her weight to her other foot, hands resting on her hips once again as she watched him tend to the scattered scratches and gashes.  _ Why is he so positive? I mean, I guess that’s good on my part—that last comment almost gave me away—I have to be more careful if I want Adrien by my side and not at the beck and call of that stupid superhero. You don’t have to be behind a mask to be marvelous. A princess should save her prince, not the other way around. I’m not in any need of saving. _

Her eyelids fluttered closed as she pictured the blond-haired boy in her mind.

_ “Oh, Lila, my sweet, why is your clothing stained with blood?” Adrien would ask. _

_ “Oh, Adrien, it was horrible! This poor girl was run over by a car. I couldn’t simply stand by and watch, so I told Chat Noir to lift the car and I pulled her out and carried her to the hospital all on my own!” she would say, swooning. It wouldn’t be lying, it would just be—well—stretching the truth a bit. _

He would see me as a hero.

_ “Lila, I love you for being so heroic! I hate Ladybug now! Kiss me, and we’ll ruin her life together!” Adrien would coo. _

_ “Of course, Adrien!” _

He would  _ kiss _ me.

_ “Lila, let’s run away together and leave behind your parents!” _

_ They wouldn’t even notice. _

Her mind wandered to the bruise hidden beneath her bangs.  _ Except for my father, maybe. He would rejoice with a new bottle of champagne. _ She could feel water welling up in her tear ducts, but she opened her eyes to stop anything from falling.  _ Adrien, you’re the only one that can save me from this mess. _

She removed her jacket and scrunched it up, making it poofy like a pillow before kneeling down and lifting the ombré’s head, stuffing the make-shift headrest underneath.

_ Whee-ooh, whee-ooh, whee-ooh! _

The ambulance blared with light and sound as it backed out of the hospital. It was just barely visible that many buildings away, but she could still hear it. Then there was a sudden movement below her direct line of vision.

Nathaniel placed the napkins to his side and shoveled one hand below Alya’s shoulders and one underneath her knees. He heaved her up off the ground bridal-style and rushed closer to the ambulance as it tore down the street. The truck ground to a halt, the meager pair of paramedics opening the doors and swarming out, only to open the trunk and pull out a stretcher. And the ginger-haired boy stood there, patiently.

He looked like a warrior.

_ Since when did he have so much strength? _ Lila took a closer look, and she saw that his arms were trembling.

Alya was lifted out of his hold and placed onto the gurney. They began wheeling her away.

Nathaniel relaxed as soon as the weight left his straining muscles, and he jogged back to Lila, who questioned him the moment he was within earshot.

“How did you have the strength to do that?” the brunette asked. She was truly curious.

“Oh, well, didn't I—I-I mean, I didn’t. I just thought that we should have—” he spoke before stopping, his eyes widening as he straightened in terror, staring off at something past her.

Lila heard a crumbling sound rumbling behind her; it sounded like heavy rubber on bits of gravel. She turned to face the source, only to be jolted from her place with a startling squeeze of a hand around her wrist. Stumbling forward, she was pulled impossibly fast toward the ambulance car doors. Alya was being wheeled inside, and they were about to shut everything up, but there the two teens were. Nathaniel pushed her ahead of him onto one of the benches attached to the inside structure, and he plopped himself into a spot straight across from her.

“We’re—huff—family, ma’am,” Nath rambled to one of the paramedics, breathing heavily from the sudden sprint.

She raised an eyebrow but allowed the doors to be shut anyway.

Lila heaved for air as well, her face turned to the floor and looked at the ginger-haired teen with a look of inquiry from underneath her bangs, careful not to lift her head and draw attention.  _ Did Tomato Head just lie? _ Then, recalling what had just happened, she spat out a burning question. “Why the heck did you do that?” The brunette turned to narrow her eyes at him.

He avoided her gaze, or, rather, that’s what she thought at first. It was a slow movement, but he lifted a finger to point out the windows, which were lathered with wire lattice.

She followed his finger and its trajectory, pivoting her head to see something that appalled her.

Right where she had been standing was a car. There were tire marks that skidded down the street and onto the sidewalk, showing exactly where the breaks were hit. If she had still been standing there—if he hadn't pulled her away—what would have happened?  _ I could have died. _

Her hair swished behind her back and slid across the fabric of her shirt as she wheeled around to inspect him in oculoplania.

He stared out the window still, with his aquamarine jewels of irises trained on a moving target as the ambulance truck jerked into transportation. The tips of his bangs were stained amber, sunlight flooding in his face.

Nathaniel removed his gaze from the window and met hers.

His eyes were riveting.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump.  _ Lila could sense the blush mounting in her cheeks. She raised a hand to cover her face and turned to the side, eyebrows furrowing as she twisted her lips into a smile of unsurety.  _ Maybe it’s… okay… to be the one saved once in a while. _

Her eyes focused on Alya, the red in her face fading as she was reminded again of the girl’s pain. She now had an oxygen mask strapped to her face, her breath fogging up the plastic. The ombré’s eyelids were shut like she was sleeping.

_ I hope she’s okay. _

Looking away from the upsetting sight, she decided to observe her surroundings. Her face twitched as she noted something immediately, and she squirmed in her seat, but she decided to distract herself with whatever she could pick out in the overwhelmingly small room. The walls were—well—maybe she should’ve focused on something else.  _ They’re getting closer. I feel so… so squished. This space is so tiny. Um…  _ She looked around, her throat drying up as she tried to swallow her fear.  _ The walls—oh gosh, stop staring at the walls! _ They seemed to grow as they closed in on her, showing no mercy. Lila glanced around frantically, clawing for something to distract herself. There were so many medical devices, and they lined every corner, but it all meshed together and merged with the space’s enclosure. It was like a white room for insane people, and  _ she _ was the one going insane. The room shrunk and shrunk and shrunk around her, and she squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, wanting to scream. She took a sharp breath of air, but stopped herself as the red from the light shining through her eyelids reminded her of something; she uncovered her ears and lifted her head to peer at the boy in front of her.

And everything around her just dissipated.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

Nathaniel was staring out of the window again, arms clutching the sketchbook he somehow  _ miraculously _ managed to remember. He leaned back in his seat, eyes focused calmly on the sight outside.

Lila smiled genuinely.

Then her face distorted into one of alarm, and she pulled the smile into a taut line with wide eyes as his head began to turn toward her. She quickly whipped around to pretend like she was looking at Alya. Feeling her heart swell with the rising blood pressure in her cheeks, she glanced to the side and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, head unmoving, only to see him watching her, expression blank.  _ Get him out of your head, Lila. You like Adrien. _ She shook the thought of him from her mind and glared at the wall. Fear suddenly filled her again.  _ I can’t believe I’m going to do this.  _ Lila peeked to the side once more, only to find him still staring at her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The brunette raised an eyebrow.  _ That’s none of your business, freak. _ She wheeled around to face him, glaring him dead in the eyes. “Yes,” she spoke, her voice seething.

Nathaniel continued to look at her. He blinked a couple of times before opening his mouth to reply. “Okay.”

She proceeded to stare, her pupils in a deadlock with his. Her eyelids were narrowed, but she felt her chest tighten, and she unconsciously began to search his eyes, her gaze softening.

Ba-dump, ba-dump.

Feeling her face heat up, she snapped.  _ I like Adrien. Not you. _ “What are you looking at, pervert?” she spat, sending daggers again.

“I-I’m sorry! I was just looking around the room,” the redhead stuttered, confused. There was a loud smack as his sketchbook fell to the floor. He bent down to pick it up.

“Hmmph!” Lila crossed her arms and turned her head away from him. She scowled at the wall.  _ More like ogling.  _ A second voice hissed back at the first.  _ You wish.  _ Seconds of silence passed by as she moped, but she was quick to give herself a pep-talk.  _ You know what? I’m going to go to school tomorrow. It’s time to actually do something about my crush. That Chloé girl is too close to him. ‘Oh, Adrikins!’ How irritating. And I’ve noticed that another girl has a thing for him as well. _

Alya’s presence became more prevalent in the room as she recalled exactly who she was.

_ This girl’s blunette best-friend and that blonde chick aren't going anywhere near my man, if I have anything to say about it. They’re going to regret even talking to him in the first place. _

She wasn't going to admit it to herself, but she looked forward to her only class with Adrien for another reason as well.

The brunette peered at the boy out of the corner of her eyes.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

__=^~^=__

The lobby was quite large, the white paint chosen for the room’s color creating the illusion that the space was a lot more enormous than it really was. Lila lounged in one of the chairs that were lined in rows throughout the center. Nathaniel sat next to her, sketching something on paper, the lead of his pencil streaking in a scattered  _ flrrr-ffflr-fl _ .

The brunette closed her eyes and listened to the sound.  _ What is he drawing? _ She didn't want to be caught looking, of course, so she hadn't even  _ bothered _ trying to investigate. Every stroke lulled quieter than the last. Feeling herself sinking further and further into sleep, she let the falling sensation take over her mind as everything faded away. Her body became limp.

_ She sat in her room, face filled with the light of her computer monitor as she scrolled through the Ladyblog, searching for anything she could find about the superhero’s true identity. The walls were scattered with pictures and red strings tacked into the wall. It was a huge web of research, intertwining and connecting at a single picture; one of Ladybug that she had printed off of the website. They strung around and were pinned on different features of students in her school that matched up. No lamps shone in the space, and the windows were drawn shut. The orange covers of her bed were tousled, the floor a mess of crumpled theories and plans abandoned. It’d been a while since she had shown up at school, but she wasn’t ready yet. Not after that much embarrassment.  _ I have to wait till they all forget. Especially Adrien. But will they ever forge—

_ Footsteps. _

_ They resounded through the hallway, becoming louder and louder as they rushed closer. _

_ Lila panicked, zipping her mouse across the surface of the mat and clicking the ‘x’ in the corner of every tab that was open, not forgetting to press ‘sleep’ in the bottom left. They shrunk into nothing, and she whirled around to face the open door, fear etched in her wide eyes and frown. It was now completely dark except for the light flooding in from the hallway. But a shadow now shrouded that light. _

_ The shadow of her father. _

_ And he definitely did  _ not  _ look happy. _

_ But she didn't expect him to. Although he had just gone out with his friends to enjoy himself at a local bar, he’d been railing off at her for months, and he wasn't going to stop now. _

_ “Lila,” he said sternly. _

_ She didn't answer, only to swivel her chair to look away and stare at the blank monitor. Her expression forced itself to become just as complex. _

_ “Lila.” _

_ The brunette blinked, continuing to deadpan. _

_ “Lila!” he shouted, his voice rising. _

_ Flinching, she refused to tear her eyes from the screen—or rather, she refused to look at  _ him _. Her face had begun to flood with unease once again, and her hands gripped the armrests for dear life. _

_ “Lila, why’eren't you at school t’day,” her father seethed as he slurred the same question he’d been asking for months on end. _

_ She didn't respond. _

_ “Look a’ me when isspeak to you!” _

_ Lila bit her lip as she contemplated turning around, and she finally decided to do so as she masked her visage again with a cold facade. Her eyes were unmoving as she stared him straight in the pupils, but her fingers curled around the armrests and tightened their grip. She could hear her fingertips drag along the textured plastic with growing intensity. _

_ “Why di’nt you go?” _

_ No answer budged itself out of her mouth. The teen honestly didn't know what to say. They’d been through this so many times that there really wasn’t anything  _ to _ say, really. _

_ His fists tightened, and he began to stride toward her threateningly. _

_ Her bottom lip curled as it twitched; she wanted to cry, but she couldn't let herself show that kind of weakness. She couldn't  _ live _ with herself if she showed that kind of weakness. Her mother always taught her to be strong, to not let those kinds of feelings show when it mattered. _

_ He stopped right in front of her, and asked again as he swayed slightly. “Why didn't y’go t’ school?” The scent of alcohol was sharply distinguished in his breath. _

_ Nose wrinkling in disgust, she decided she would try to reply. She opened her mouth to speak. _

_ But her father didn't provide much time. _

_ Her head was flung to the right as the palm of his hand collided with the side of her forehead in a singe of pain, and she caught a glimpse of the picture of the single student she had yet to compare with Ladybug. _

Lila awoke with a gasp, eyelids snapping open to their fullest extent.

_ It’s her. _

The left side of her skull was lying on something quite comfier than the seats in the hospital lobby, but she knew why immediately as her irises searched around her—she had fallen asleep on Nathaniel’s lap.

The redhead faced foreword with a bored expression, the edge of his pencil resting on her forehead.

_ Must have slipped while he was holding it. _ She glared sideways at the bottom of his chin for a while before glancing the other way. His jean-covered legs stretched horizontally before her eyes, ending at his knees. The rest was bent vertically and out of sight. Her lips bunched themselves up in a strange sort of pout as she tried to stop the blush that mounted in her cheeks. The looming idiot smile that itched at her face muscles was easier to keep under control, however.

The edge of the worn eraser slowly beginning to dig into her skin, her face screwed up in a look of pain, and a fiery light crept its way up into her eyes. In a flash, her fist had snatched the circumference of the yellow object with the strength of a death grip, and she began forcing the pencil up toward his face to poke him in the jaw with the dulled graphite.

Nathaniel was brought back into present time with a rude awakening from his thoughts, and was definitely startled as the point of his own pencil began to jab itself into his jawline.

_ Damn, that’s a sharp jawline.  _ She had absent-mindedly began to observe him in oculoplania again. The whites of her eyes became more than visible and her sneer became a bundle of an effort to stop that idiot smile  _ again  _ as he pivoted his head to peer down at her.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

Their pupils were caught in a deadlock, hers filled with quiet embarrassment and his filled with an unidentifiable emotion, a heterogeneous mixture of delight and annoyance and a dash of what-the-heck-is-wrong-with-you.

“So, em, y-you’re finally awake?” he asked in a mumble, completely betraying the expression he had just held previously—it was now replaced with a solution of introverted timidness.

She looked to her other side sheepishly, her olive-green orbs filled with the faded electric-blue of denim.  _ I wasn’t looking at anything. _ Or so she tried to convince herself, but the sight of that stupid jawline was still etched in the back of her mind. But even more burned in her memory were his eyes. 

A nurse with her hair pulled into a ponytail of black locks strode up to them from behind the front desk. She wore a loose shirt and loose pants, both of mint green. A pair of white sneakers stood below. She glanced over the two students with an eyebrow raised before shaking her head in dismissal and flipping through the pages of her clipboard. The papers were tucked promptly underneath before she looked up, adjusting her glasses as she addressed the sane one. “Alya is now in a stable condition. The doctor’s projection is that she will live. It’s a miracle. From the looks of it, she was underneath the tire of a car, but none of her organs exploded from the pressure. There were a lot of broken bones, so she’ll be ready for visits sometime after we put on the casts. Besides that, she should be brought to her normal condition after the fight is over. Ladybug’s ability usually fixes a lot of the injuries here soon after an akumatized person is cured.”

“Thank you,” the redhead said.

The woman nodded before walking off.

Meanwhile, the brunette below was still thinking about a certain entity that had been on her mind before the lady appeared out of nowhere. She was glad that Alya was okay, and she could feel that Nath was too as a sigh pushed her sideways with the rising and falling of his ribcage. Irritated, Lila shifted her head and sat up.

But not without knocking her forehead into the side of his chin.

“Ouch!” Nathaniel exclaimed. He rubbed the tender area where her skull collided with his face. A weight fell back into his lap, and he lowered his gaze to witness something on Lila’s forehead. “Oh my g-gosh, I’m, uh, so  _ so  _ sorry. You’re already getting a bruise!”

“It’s not your fault,” she grumbled as her head reeled, recalling her dream, or rather, her nightmare of a memory. Her head was reeling. The dizzyness leaning the room like a boat, she tried to sit up again but instead rolled right onto the floor with a  _ thump _ . She groaned as her head struck the floor, following soon after her back. A dull pain branched out across her body, and her eyelids squeezed shut while she stretched a hand to rub the back of her skull. Everything became a blur as she opened them again, and all of the colorful figures suddenly racing back and forth above her, and all of the screams resounding in the room just conglomerated.

Nathaniel bent over her, two of him did, actually, one set off only slightly, and stammered, “G-get up! We have to get out of here!”

Both of his eyes were visible now, and she offered a lopsided smile, scrunching her eyebrows together as she chuckled a bit. She let her head wheel to the side, let her eyes wander as the concussion pulsated in the rear of her mind. But her line of sight fell upon a familiar build. It was murky, but she thought she recognized it. Her eyes widened.

_ My father. _

Fingers closed around her wrist, gliding around it softly, and she looked up.

Tomato Head was trying to lift her off of the ground. An urgent look was plastered on his face.

Lila wrenched it out of his grasp and brought her palm to the ground, squirming out of the place she lay and heaving herself up off of the spot. Her mind still wasn’t able to focus, and the room still spun, but she strode over to the man.

He held a glass bottle in his fist.

“Hi,  _ dad _ ,” she spat.

“I’m not your dad—I am Drunken Insanity.”

“Not my dad?” the brunette questioned as she chuckled bitterly. “Of course not. You never were, and you never will be. Mom never should have married you. You’re always telling me how much of a disappointment I am. I can’t even count how many times you’ve come up to my room and told me that I should stop being a coward and just face everybody at school. Couldn’t you see that I wasn’t ready?” She rolled her eyes, and her upper lip curled as she continued, scoffing. “Only a  _ real _ parent would see that. A  _ real _ parent would never beat their own child!” Her eyes began to sting with tears.

Nathaniel gasped. But so did other students of their school that still happened to be in the hospital lobby. They’d entered while Lila was asleep, stating that they had come into the safest building they could think of to hide from the akumatizee. A crowd of them had begun to fester, watching the scene like deer in the headlights, too late to run, too mesmerized to look away or try to escape. He slowly crept his way forward, shuffling millimeter by millimeter across the hospital floor.

“Ugh.” The bottle began to raise.

The redhead realized what was about to happen, and raced forward, his hand closing around her arm and yanking her from the range of fire. She crashed into his chest, and he led her out of the building at a sprint, huddling together with her to stop her from falling. They turned immediately as they exited out the door, rushed all the way to the spot where Alya was handed to them (it was marked by a puddle of blood on the cement, which had begun to dry up), and ducked into the alleyway right beside the wedding cake shop. The two seized a moment to catch their breath. They leaned on opposite walls. A stream of water flowed in the crack that ran through the length of the narrow pass.

“I don’t get why they  _ cared _ so much,” he said, a hint of anger in his tone. It was barely traceable, which was mostly due to the impossibly low volume of the statement.

As soon as her heart began to slow to its normal beat, Lila raised her head to look at Nathaniel. He still had his sketchbook. In fact, he was sketching in it. Scribbling in it, really, but it was all the same to her at the moment.

Because behind him were bricks and mortar.

The structure loomed high above her, and she looked around to see the same red wall mirrored on the other side—the space between them was tiny. She bit her lip, uncomfortable, and decided to simply walk off.  _ I don’t have to keep standing here if I don’t want to. Unlike the ambulance, this place actually  _ has _ an exit _ . The pain in her head had dissipated, it had gone along with the racing of her heartbeat. They were now a steady, throbbing rhythm.

“Where are you going?” his voice asked as it sent itself from behind her.

Lila stopped in her tracks, not bothering to look at him, for she knew that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to tear her eyes away. “Home,” was her only response. The brunette strolled off, her facial expression flooded with a forced, stone-cold expression.

Nathan hesitated before going after her, but he halted when he spotted her jacket lying on the ground. “Hey!” he exclaimed, but he wasn’t loud enough. “You forgot something!” He watched helplessly as she became further and further away, and he finally lowered his head in defeat, bending down and lifting the piece of clothing off of the ground and rolling it up.

__=^~^=__

The brunette stood on the steps of her front porch, hand hovering over the doorknob. She stood there, feet planted on the fuzzy welcome mat, contemplating whether or not she should enter her house. Her fingers closed around the knob as she finally braced herself, turning it.

But the handle was locked.

_ Weird. I didn't lock it before I left _ . Lila tried knocking, her knuckles rapping against the oak surface.

“Honey, it looks like she’s back,” said a female. It was her mother.

_ She’s back from her business trip? _

There was the sound of footsteps approaching, then the  _ klock _ of locks releasing their hold.

_ Click _ .

The door opened, revealing the face of her mom.

“Oh, sweetie, you’ve got a bruise on your forehead!” There was a look of surprise written on her face, the whites of her brown eyes showing themselves underneath her chestnut hair, which was pulled into a side sweep and allowed to cascade down to the top of her waist. She wore a black business dress and heels, and she was dolled up with mascara and a powdering of blush.

Lila’s bangs were slightly off to the side—she’d forgotten to straighten out her hair before she arrived. She shifted her head in a jerk of movement to let them fall back into place, covering it back up. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

The entryway to the house widened as her father ducked into view. He was a tall man, stubble brushing his chin with blue eyes and spiky black hair, and he wore a loose red shirt and blue jeans. His shoes were off, a pair of socks visible instead. “Where does she have a bruise?” Concern enticed his thick eyebrows to bunch up.

_ Of course, he doesn't remember.  _ She deadpanned.  _ Wait… wasn't he akumatized? Why is he here? _ She zoned out for a second, trying to figure out how the heck he could be here, of all places.  _ The fight must have ended already. _

“On her forehead. Lila, sweetie, could you show him?”

She reluctantly brushed the strands of hair to the side.

“Oh my gosh, she does. Come on into the house, Lila.”

They ushered her inside, leading her past the rooms of boxes empty and full and closing the door behind her before insisting that she come into the kitchen. She turned left, stepping inside. It was one of the only rooms that was fully set up so far, and it had become the place they went to talk about things and have family meetings, as well as eat or watch television. She could just hear the news lady as she droned on and on about the weather.

“It looks like we might just have a storm rolling in…”

The table on the far side just happened to match the cupboards, which were a complimentary grey to the dark wood. There was a single silver oven with a stove atop it, accompanied by a dishwasher of the same color not too far from it. The fridge shared the same pigment as the other appliances. A granite countertop carried itself around the perimeter of two of the walls (a separate one was rooted into the middle of the space), the third wall under siege by several windows. The tv was propped in the corner beside them, and the shutters were rolled open, lighting the room, which made the kitchen take on a larger appearance.

Her father sat down in one of the backed chairs at the table, but her mother remained standing by the middle counter, hands enclosed around her suitcase handle. Lila stayed right at the edge of the room.

She really just wanted to go up to her bedroom, to her desk, but that wasn't exactly an option at the moment.

“So, how did you get the bruise?” her mom asked.

“I accidentally hit my head while I was bending down to grab a pencil in class,” she lied, offering a smile.

“You finally went to school?” her dad beamed. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Yes, sweetie, it’s great that you finally showed up.”

Lila blinked, lips still spread in feigned delight. “Yeah, great.”  _ There isn’t even school on Sunday _ . She opened her mouth to speak. “I’m going to go upstairs now, okay?”

“Okay,” her parents replied simultaneously.

“Jinx,” her mother gasped before she broke out in laughter.

Her father chuckled.

The brunette’s features scrubbed themselves of the facade as she turned around and walked away, lathered with a look of disinterest. Eyes trained on the stairs, she took one step after another, not really in any hurry. Nothing was all she wanted to do. Just sit in the dark with all of her… research. Her research. The picture on the desk. Motivation lifted her head and straightened her posture as she raced the rest of the way, pushing open the door. Air pressure caused it to move as if it was in water, but it stopped it from slamming against the wall. Well, there was that and her door-stop. The moment she entered, however, the room was organized, and the blinds were opened to let the sun in. A scowl curled her upper lip as she strode over to her desk.  _ Where is the picture? _ Lila nudged her school stuff to the side, and she didn’t care when her folder teetered on the edge of the surface and slid off, smacking the floor. But something drifted right after it.

_ The picture. _

She bent down to pick it up, recalling how Nathaniel picked up his sketchbook in the ambulance.

_ “I don’t get why they  _ cared _ so much,” he said, a hint of anger in his tone. _

He said that when a crowd of students stood to watch her.

_ They cared _ .

Straightening up, she examined the photo. It was an exact match. Every feature was aligned. She thought about it as she closed the light off from the windows by shutting the shutters, and she shuffled a handful of pushpins into her palm, snipping some red string off from its ball and winding it around two of her fingers. Her thumb pressed the pins into place, puncturing the paper and the wall and tacking it into place before tying some strings around each pin and connecting the dots between the two images. She pilfered a writing utensil from her desk and peeled off a sticky note from its stack. Uncapping the pen with a  _ pop _ , she scribbled the traits that matched on several other sticky notes and smoothed the adhesive parts around and on the image.  _ Her hair color, eye color, skin color—heck, even her hairstyle—it’s all a perfect match. Marinette is Ladybug, no doubt about it. _


	6. I Can't Think Straight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: drunkenness

Chat gawked at Ladybug. _Is she making a joke?_ He shook that thought out of his head, eyes never leaving her. _She never makes jokes._ His eyebrows furrowed in thought. _Okay,_ maybe _she might make jokes, but never ones like these._

There was movement off to the side, and the sound of hollowed glass dragging along the ground caught his attention. The akumatizee was standing up.

The man clutched his chest in pain, suddenly, exclaiming with a gasp. “Oh! Ladybug! Help me!” He stumbled as he fell back to the pavement in feigned trouble.

She turned toward him, eyes widening before she sprinted over to offer him a hand.

Chat just watched incredulously, unbelieving of what was occurring. _Impawssible. How could she just believe him like that?_ His eyes drifted to the bottle still gripped in the akumatizee’s hand.

_She was zapped._

_So, technically, she’s drunk right now._ He smirked. _Meaning… no. You gotta focus. Now isn’t the time._

“You should go hide before the akumatizee comes,” the bluenette said, still serious despite the spell over her mind.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, _Ladybug_ ,” the villain said. A purple mask took over his face. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

“What?” the spotted superhero asked.

The villain blinked innocently. “Those are some nice earrings you have there.” Her question was ignored.

“Thank you,” she smiled, her lips crooked.

“Do you mind if I look at them up close? They’re just so beautiful.”

 _That’s it._ Chat heard something a bit different than that, and all that coursed through his mind was the idea of attacking him, but he instead wrapped an arm around Ladybug’s waist and vaulted her off toward safety.

The city below was beautiful, the rows upon rows of rooftops in countless colors and constituents, and it was only accessible by him and his Lady. It was theirs. He thought of it as a home they shared. If someone disturbed it (particularly an akumatized person), they were stopped for defiling such precious territory immediately. The hero clad in black longed for a day when they could just sit on the shingles of a roof and watch the sun sink below the horizon, a gorgeous spectacle of oranges and reds and yellows, an ombré expanse only punctuated by clouds of fluffy pink wisps that scuttled across its never-ending length. But even more aesthetically pleasing was a jewel that stood like a giant, that stretched higher than any other building in sight.

The Eiffel Tower.

It was most beautiful at night, and it was where he first realized his love for Ladybug. Oh, what a marvelous epiphany that was.

He was heading straight for it—but a hand pushed his face to the side roughly, and he lost balance on his baton. The two superheroes began plunging hundreds of feet toward the ground, the winds whipping their faces as they hurtled closer and closer and closer to the street at a growing speed.

Chat grasped for the silver stick, but it slipped out of its hold and became far out of reach.

He closed his eyes, hoping, trusting, that Ladybug would save them. Air still pushed fiercely at his face, and he became worried. _She would have done something by now._ The blond peaked out of an eye and looked behind him, spotting her yo-yo wrapped around a street light.

Everything was still.

Turning back, he flinched, face distorting in a look of alarm as he saw that the concrete was only a centimeter from brushing his nose. He gulped, throat dry. _I guess I shouldn’t have been so trusting. I’m just so used to being reliant on her. I didn’t really think about the fact that she isn’t in her right mind at the moment._

And that’s when his face hit the floor.

 _Meowch! Can she read minds?_ His body was like a tree falling; quick and painless—except without the painless part. And it didn’t really look like a tree, either. More like a flopping fish that only flopped once. He moved his hands across the ground as if he was making a snow angel, prior to swiping them toward him to then attempt to pick himself up off where he lay. But a groan burst through his lips as a weight landed on his back.

“Why didn’t you let me talk to the nice citizen?” Ladybug asked. He couldn’t see her face, but he could tell by the tone in her voice that she was definitely angry.

“Aaaarrrrgghhhhhh!!!!” A cry came from his left, and the volume increased as he heard footsteps flopping toward them across the ground.

He was wrenched from his spot of shame and pulled to the side when the akumatized man charged right on past them, flailing through thin air and breaking through the hospital doors. Screams emanated from inside. “Come on—let’s go. We might lose him,” he stated. Chat bent down to pick up his baton from the ground and flicked his wrist to extend it to the length of a staff. He hoisted her on top of his leg and let the metal stick grow.

His destination was right in front of them.

Beam after beam, the parts of the structure lowered beneath them one by one. It was almost like being on an elevator.

His thigh muscles began to fill with an ache as lactic acid spread through them. Holding up his partner was beginning to grow tiresome, but he forgot it in an instant when her head leaned on his shoulder. It was a soft gesture, and he couldn’t help but smile as they reached the top. He let the baton fall slowly forward and stick to the surface of the side, locking it in place. The blond moved to transfer the two of them onto the floor of the tower, placing a foot down, then, using the pole for balance, lowering his leg and letting Ladybug slip into a standing position. His palm aligned with his arm, retracting his baton.

She walked forward a few steps before abruptly sitting with her legs crossed on the ground. Her arms folded themselves underneath her chest.

“Ladybug?” he said, unsure of what she was doing.

“I’m not doing anything until you let me apologize to that citizen.”

“I thought you wanted to talk to him.”

“Well, now I want to apologize to him,” she replied.

He strolled forward and past her, head tilted in curiosity and confusion, then wheeled around to face her. A smile of adoration crossed his eyebrows and lifted the corners of his lips. She looked cute sitting there, pouting. _Irresistible._ _I could look at her all day and never get tired of it._ “Mew know,” he began. “He was trying to steal your earrings.”

“Why would he do that?” Ladybug said, her mouth slightly parting.

Chat gulped, heart fluttering.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

He really wanted to kiss her. “He’s akumatized.”

“Oooohhhhh.” A limp ‘o’ found itself on her facial features as she finally understood. “Hahahah. He looks really normal for a baddy.”

He looked up into his thoughts after she said that. “Yeah… He does, doesn’t he…” His voice trailed off at the end, his expression molding in seriousness. _If he wasn’t standing on a car when I saw him, I would have never’ve known. Did Hawkmoth do this on purpose?_

“Speaking of looking like a citizen,” the spotted hero continued, her tone quite similar to that of one who gossips. “My best friend said that Adrien Agreste kinda looks like you. Funny, isn’t it? I was _so_ in denial when I heard it, though.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, he stared at her in alarm.

The blunette lifted herself up from her spot, swaying as she stood. “Woahhh.” She approached him, each step more wobbly than the last. Her eyes squinted as she moved in really close, her breath fanning his face.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

Chat blushed like a madman. His head retracted until he felt a double-chin nearly ready to form. But he didn't dare move back.

He was too mesmerized.

Ladybug continued to lean in, looking him straight in the eyes as their noses brushed.

His eyes were wide. He blinked a couple times in disbelief. “Uh, ladybug?” _Our faces are so close. Should I lean in and close the gap? Or what? I’ve never kissed anybody before so I don't really know what to do. Um. Well, here goes nothing._

She stepped back just as he closed his eyes and moved in for the kill, lips over-puckered like an idiot as he flailed around helplessly when there was nobody there.

“She’s right! You _dooo_ look like Adrien. Your eyes look exactly like his, minus the green around them,” she said, giggling. “But you don't act the same at all. Like _at all._ ” Ladybug emphasized each of her following words with accusational jabs of her finger in the side of his cheek bone. “What is _with_ thaaaat.” Her last word was pronounced in annoyance as the pressure of her poke grew until it was almost as if she was trying to drive it right into the bone like a screw.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed in pain and swatted her hand away, cradling his cheek in his palm. _She knows who… who…_ His thoughts evaporated as he examined his lady’s expression, and sympathy poured into his eyes.

Lower lip beginning to tremble, she sniffled. Her mouth spread into a frown, and tears fabricated in the corners of her eyes. She acquired the infamous puppy-dog look in her pupils as they expanded at will.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t mean to hurt you. _Pawlease_ forgive me,” he apologized, lifting her palm gingerly with his fingers and placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Chat then lowered it and let her arm fall at her side.

Ladybug sniffed. “No.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips, glaring off to the side as her foot tapped with irritation.

Shoulders slumping in slight disappointment, his sight drifted off in another direction. But then he lit up with an idea. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

The moody superhero glanced at him, pink mounting in her cheeks. Her gaze left him again, then after a while her eyes began to dart toward him and away with some kind of indistinguishable emotion.

He didn’t know what that emotion was, but he certainly thought that her expression was cute.

“Um…” she began, biting her tongue. “If you can get Adrien to like me, then I will forgive you.”

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

“Do you… know him? Or something?” His throat dried and he swallowed, face heating up.

“Do I know him? He’s in the same school as me.”

 _The same school?! Ladybug knows who I am in my civilian form. Well, I mean, she doesn’t know that I’m Chat, of cour—I think, but she_ knows _me._ He felt like squealing, but that wasn't manly to do in front of his crush, so he held it down and strangled it by the neck. “Ahem. Well, that could—em—that could be arranged.” _Not that he doesn't already like you or anything, or that he’s standing in front of you behind a mask._

“Oh, hello again!” She unfolded her arms abruptly and bared her teeth in a smile as she greeted someone behind him.

Chat jerked around in alarm before narrowly dodging a fist racing for his face in an arm’s race. A bottle raised, held directly to his forehead so that he was in the drunk ammunition’s line of fire.

His eyes widened.

 _I should have taken that shot for my lady._ The feline braced himself.

It jerked, the bottle did, as it propelled the attack harbored deep within its enchantment.

But it was at the sky.

 _What?_ The blond pried one eye open to investigate why he hadn't been hit with the beam of magic. Not that he was complaining or anything.

His partner had Drunken Insanity on a leash. Her yo-yo was wound around him countless times, and she didn't hold back the fury in her countenance. She began reeling him in toward her and away from Chat like a pet who just wanted to run away, his heels skidding helplessly on the metal surface below him. Ladybug gripped the black string tighter until not only her knuckles were tense, but her entire fingers were trembling as well. The scowl on her face and the way her eyes were narrowed portrayed anything but mercy. Her nose wrinkled in disgust, and she spat through gritted teeth, voice seething, “You lying little baddy. I will _murder_ you for lying to me!” She ripped the glass bottle from his hand, which was poking out from the binding, and positioned it like a bat.

An incredulous appearance kneaded Chat’s face. _She’s not actually going to—_

Her foot stepped back, and her hips twisted, her shoulders following all in one fluid motion as she swung the glass weapon with all her strength.

_Clang!_

The bottle collided with the floor when she missed, and the blunette, unsteady on her feet, fell. The string of her yo-yo retracted, releasing the man imprisoned by it.

He lunged for his weapon, but he grasped for empty air. Fumbling to stand up, he glared at the superhero who commandeered it.

It was in the cat’s paws now. Chat smirked, his ears perking. _She really hates liars, doesn’t she? Good thing_ I’m _not one. But this kitty hates what his lady hates._ He twirled it by the rim, his fingers clenched around the opening. Chat then lunged forward like a fencer, pretending as if the beam would attack the akumatizee. His wrist flicked the bottle onto the ground, shattering it.

“Nooo!” Drunken insanity shouted, sinking to his knees in defeat.

A black butterfly fluttered from the debris.

The feline stood and waited expectantly, and he blinked a couple of times before deadpanning. “Oh.”

Ladybug had sat up from her spot, and she pulled her legs toward her so that they were crossed. She was fuming as she watched the akuma fly away, while the akumatized man crept off of the top floor and began racing down a couple floors once he was out of their possible line of sight.

_Fllt, fllt. Fllt, fllt._

“Ladybug?” he said as he turned to her.

“Yeah?” she replied, completely oblivious to her duty.

“Could you purify the akuma?”

“I don’t want to.”

Chat breathed a sigh of exasperation. But then he smiled, his cheeks a shade pinker as he said with unsurety, “If you purify that akuma… I will—erm—give Adrien to you.” It was almost like a question to himself more than anything else.

The spotted (and very drunk) superhero brightened up at the offer. “Really?” Her eyes glimmered with gladness and gratitude, and she jumped up off the floor, opened the compartment of all that is good, and launched her weapon into the sky, capturing the winged insect and yanking the spotted contraption back toward her. It slipped out of her hold, but she pushed it against her chest to stop it from taking a plunge. “Bad yo-yo. Don’t run away.”

A white pair of wings spread, flittering from the Eiffel tower and farther and farther away until it shrunk into a tiny little speck.

“Wait. You forgot to use your special power, Ladybug.”

She turned to him. “Give me Adrien.”

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

“O-Okay, um, if you want Adrien, then yell ‘lucky charm!’ and throw your yo-yo up into the air. Then shout ‘miraculous ladybug!’ when you decide to throw whatever lands in your hands up high as well.”

Ladybug executed the ritual as told, and a bottle of water and a cup of coffee landed in her hands, both entities red, and they were speckled with black polka dots. Some of the black liquid sploshed onto the ground and spilled over into her hands, and it was scalding hot, but she paid no mind as she grinned ecstatically and tossed them over her head, quickly muttering the designated phrase.

“Give me Adrien!” she shouted, voice at the top of her lungs, and she tackled her partner to the ground. The blunette, still out of her wits, was straddling him as she fisted his suit and looked just about ready to punch him, a clenched hand at the ready. “Give me...” Each word was hissed, as she was absolutely pissed, but her facial expression relaxed when a loveliness of ladybugs soared in a spiral around her, causing the spell over her head to dissipate completely. “What… is going on?”

Chat smirked. _She’s so cute when she’s confused._

“What?” Ladybug inquired. Her tone still sounded quite angry, and she appeared as if she had no idea why.

The superhero clad in black didn’t know what else to do but seize her face in his hands and pull her down towards him. The plump lips he so longed to kiss felt… felt… His eyes shot open.

He was kissing the palm of her hand.

It was smothered over his nose and mouth, not quite suffocating him, but not quite lenient with his actions either.

“I’ve never let you kiss me before, so what changed to make you think that you could kiss me now?” came a playful voice above him. His eyes darted from the fuzzed sight of one of her fingers to the aesthetic visage of her glittering orbs.

“My lady, I mewst say that you are being quite the fierce one today.” His words were muffled.

She allowed the sun to discover his facial features once again with the removal of her palm before standing up and offering him help to do the same, that simple gesture her answer. “I think I could say the same to you, Chat Noir,” she replied as a dot on her earrings blinked out. “Looks like we’re running out of time. Gotta run!”

 _Was that a pun?_ He lifted his fingertips to his lips as a slight blush mounted in his cheeks. _I got so close, but she pushed me away._ He recalled her saying his name earlier. No, not his superhero name, but his civilian name. _Ladybug knows Adrien. She’s read the poem I wrote to her. She’s even admitted that we go to the same school. Does that mean… that I know_ her _?_ Chat paused. _Wait. Ladybug said in the interview with Alya that once her best friend knows, Alya will know. So who would tell Alya everything? Marinette. Marinette is Ladybug's best friend._


	7. I Can't Tell Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The purple suit indicates unlimited lucky charms. I must have read something about that when I was writing this.

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

The chained watch in her pocket ticked endlessly in its tranquil rhythm.

Marinette was lying in her bed after completing her homework. The world was dark behind her eyelids, but the lids were light over her eyes. In reality, she was wide awake and only pretending to be asleep.

A creaking noise scratched the air as the trap door to her room opened.

She knew it was her parents simply checking up on her, but her eyebrows furrowed with impatience as she waited for the soft thud of the door closing.

_ Thud. _

The ceiling was suddenly visible again as her line of vision snapped open. It was just barely recognizable through the blur of the darkness that shrouded her room. A warm light resonated from a lamp, which was perched on the built-in bookshelf above her cat bolster, which she used as a sort of headboard.

“Tikki!” she hissed, whispering just in case her parents were listening.

The kwami whizzed into sight, appearing out of thin air. “Yes, Marinette?”

“Spots on!” She said the magic words urgently before quickly ducking under her covers as the light engulfed her in a flash. When she lowered a small stretch of the sheets with a finger, it was the mask of Ladybug peering out, irises darting left and right before she blasted out and jumped over the side railing, quickly sending her yo-yo winding around the poles to stop her feet from touching the floor. Her toes stretched the last bit to reach the surface of the wood panels before shifting the weight to her balls and making a final handover to her heels, and she yanked her weapon back into her hands. She prodded the bottom left dot on the red surface.

_ Pop! _

The circle popped out, and it seemed to repel from its place as if some magnetic force held it up. A light emanated from the empty space, which shed visibility onto a contact about the size of her earrings. It even had a quincunx of dots on it.

_ The Pearl of Mysteries. _ It was the resplendent sphere the contact was resting on. Master Fu had told her about the other new powers she would be receiving along with her miraculous, but this was her first time actually trying to use one of them. He had made her memorize where they were located, of course, before she was allowed to leave his clinic with the new knowledge.

Ladybug’s eyes widened with awe as the white energy below it darkened, disguising the contact with purple. The half-sphere rose out of the compartment, split itself in half, and enveloped the red of her miraculous—a veil of the same color plastered itself to her suit.

She observed the change in her mirror before she dropped to her knees and crawled to the entrance to her room with expert stealth, lifting the handle of the door and slipping underneath. The spotted superhero practically flew down the first flight of stairs, wobbling on the tips of her feet to stop herself from crashing into the bookshelf again.  _ Just one more floor to go. _

_ Crrreak. _

Her mouth was frozen in the shocked shape of an ‘o’ as she whipped her head around in the direction of the sound and stared in the mirrored expression of her dad.  _ I gotta keep my composure. Did Master Fu say that this thing gives me infinite lucky charms? _

“Ladybu—”

“Lucky Charm!” Tom was cut off as Ladybug whispered the spell for her secret power, throwing her yo-yo up in the air.

A spray can landed in her hands.

She read the label aloud. “Thirty-Second Memory Spray…” The description below told of how anything in the past thirty seconds would be forgotten by the person who inhales the mist, and to use the charm sparingly.  _ Better do this quickly, then. _ Inside the silvery bottle, the liquid could be heard splish-sploshing around as she gave it a little shake to activate it. She sprayed it in her dad’s face before racing down the steps to the bakery.

The father waved the pink cloud out of his face, coughing from the strong scent. “Wait!” Moments later, he was blinking in confusion. It took a moment for him to decide what to do—he turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

Downstairs, her daughter bit her lip in regret of what she did.  _ But how can I explain a purple version of Ladybug creeping through some civilian’s house at night? _

She stopped in her tracks as she observed the enigma in the bakery wall.

_ I still can’t figure out why that is still there. Everything else was fixed. Could it be that this wasn’t the akumatizee’s doing? _ Her pigtails swayed as she shook her head.  _ No.  _ Confusion splayed across her face.  _ But it couldn’t have been because of the fight. If it was, then this would be gone. _

Bricks and debris were scattered across the tiled floor. There was still a gaping hole in the wall, and through it only darkness could be seen. It was the middle of the night, after all.

_ I can’t just  _ leave _ it like this. I have to do something. _

“Miraculous ladybug!” she said in a small voice, throwing the can into the air and letting it disperse into a million little ladybugs. They swept upstairs.

She then proceeded to call several lucky charms.

The first was a broom. Ladybug seized it in her hand and brought the bristles to the floor, scooting the rubble into a pile in the corner. 

_ Swiff, swuff. Swiff, swuff. _

Puffs of dust fabricated out of the momentum of each sweep, and some of it wafted up to her nose. She sneezed, face flushing and eyes watering as they puffed up, and she observed what was left to pick up.

Pieces were strewn across the entire floor, peeking out from even the smallest crevices. It took some shoving and some frustrated jabs, but the bristles eventually nudged them into a wider space. She dragged the broom behind her, the processed bits of clay being swept along with it.

_ Swiffffffffff, swiffffffffff. _

It wasn't the most graceful act she’d ever carried out, but it got the job done just fine. Ladybug took in a deep breath, looked around at the work she’d completed, and let out a sigh as she spotted the elephant in the room, shoulders slumping. She closed her eyes and relished in the slice of peace, almost not wanting to open them again.  _ I still have to fix  _ that _. _ Her eyelids squeezed tight and she groaned before opening them.

The second lucky charm was a pile of bricks and some mortar, along with some tools—it was a wall-building set. She removed the first spotted brick from its place, setting it down on the ground at the edge of the wall. Shivers chilled her spine as she cold air bit her face. Using the gauging trowel to lather on some mortar, she began her work.

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

The clock was an ever constant reminder of the time.

Her mind wandered as she worked, and she poured her thoughts into the silence.

_ “Are there any hints you can give us about your true identity?” Alya asked, reading the question from her phone. Her hazel eyes scanned the text with a light of excitement. The edges of her lips were slightly raised, the content just barely peeking out over the edge of its reserve. _

A sigh escaped the bluenette’s mouth.  _ She was so  _ happy _ to interview me _ . Her heart was tight in her chest as the memory continued to flood her mind.

_ “Well, I might have  _ one _ , but it’ll be a total giveaway.” She laughed and scratched the back of her head. _

_ Her miraculous beeped one more time, and her eyes widened. _

She hadn’t expected to change back so suddenly. _  
_ _A pink wave of electricity washed over her. The energy left from her suit morphed into a kwami; her transformation had faded._ _  
_ _“I think this is the biggest hint I can give you,” Marinette said. Tikki dropped into her palms._ _  
_ Clack. _  
_ _Alya’s phone dropped into the gravel._

She paused, arm stretched awkwardly and fingers wrapped around the red block.  _ That was a huge risk I took. I couldn't wait to see how she would react, though. _

Brick by brick, layer by layer, Ladybug filled in the gap and patched up the wound in the wall. Her neck was bent down in strange positions as she worked on the wall below her. 

She’d been avoiding thinking about it, but the lack of sound was a void that could only be filled with everything she had stored in the back of her mind.

_“M-” she blurted out. “M-M-”_ _  
_ _Alya squealed before she broke out in a fit of laughter. “My best friend is a superhero! No, better yet, she’s Ladybug!”_ _  
_ _Relief flooded Marinette’s veins._ She isn't angry?

_ Of course she was angry. I thought the reveal was going well. I thought that she was genuinely happy. But I guess it was more of a sensitive moment than I had first ideated. I truly believed that she supported me—that she  _ accepted  _ that it was me. But I should have spotted the shock: how she dropped her phone; how her eyes quivered—she was just as surprised as the little kid who dropped his ice cream that day. _

_ “You’re the girl behind the mask.” _

_ “Kinda disappointing, if you ask me.” _

The bluenette prodded one of the bricks with a finger, pressing it to the cold-hearted material that was rough and bumpy against her skin.

_Alya’s finger jabbed the ‘stop’ button, ending the live stream._ _  
_ _A prick of fury edged her gaze as she glared at Marinette when it ceased recording. Her lips contorted into a seething smile, head tilted, before she spun on her heel and turned her back._

The ombré had decided to turn her back on her best friend when it mattered most.  _ She seemed so angry. I was so shocked when she reacted that way. _

_ Her face coming into contact with the gravel interrupted her like a slap to the face. A grunt of pain winded her as she crashed and skidded across the ground. It stung, but she immediately heaved herself up off the rocks nonetheless. _

Ladybug could still feel the small pebbles and shards of rock ripping the unsuspecting surface of her cheek as it sliced through the skin like an icy-hot knife, and raised her hand to brush her fingertips along the nonexistent scar—the scar that resided only in her memory. But the pain was still there.

_ She lifted her head to peer through the blur of droplets clouding her vision, and her bottom lip quivered before she broke down in tears, head in her hands as she stumbled blindly towards the gates of the park. _

Marinette, like the little kid, was so shocked that all she could do was cry. _Alya probably expected it to be someone better. Someone more composed._ Her best friend’s angry expression engraved itself into her mind, the image unyielding. _Alya was angry that it was someone as normal and unworthy as_ Marinette Dupain-Cheng, _me,_ _the stupid best friend who decided to let her know the same time as everyone else who admires Ladybug. Who didn’t hold her higher than them. But Alya is my best friend. So why didn’t I tell her earlier than everybody else? I’m stupid, that’s why. Dumb. An idiot. But I value my best friend higher than everyone else. But… even Alya—my_ best friend _—acted that way. It was such a negative reaction._

Ladybug turned her attention back to the bricks, and her eyebrows were furrowed and her eyes were unblinking as she continued to work.  _ And why am  _ I  _ thinking so negatively? I guess I’m just tired—it seems to almost be an invitation for pessimism. _ And yet she didn’t try to stop the same sort of thoughts that she had dissented for so long.

She couldn’t count how many times she had scooped up more of the grey slop, but the darkest hour had long since passed by the time she was almost finished. In fact, it was gone before she had even started building. Lighter hues of blue had come to flood in through the tiny gap she had left to go. 

_ “We aren’t friends anymore. Goodbye,” Alya said. Her last word was hushed and broken; a simple token of her denial. _

The teen swallowed and stopped building, staring at the wall with a blank expression on her face.

_ “We aren’t friends anymore. Goodbye.”  _

The last word was spoken with a shaky voice, from what she could remember. In fact, the first sentence was stoic, almost unnatural. But the phrase was like a glitch in the way that it kept repeating the same effect of some unintentional mistake over and over and over in her mind.

_ “We aren’t friends anymore.” _

“We aren’t friends anymore,” Marinette whispered. She hadn’t even noticed herself say it.

_ Will everyone react that way?  _ Did _ everyone react that way? _

_ Probably.  _ Her lips were chapped, and she licked them as if she was about to speak. Her memory of the time was so crisp, it was almost as if it was spoken aloud to her. As if what happened was yelling at her.

_The box finally popped open after Alya had fumbled with it for a while, and she clutched a macaron in her hand. The teen grinned as she broke it in two, and crumbs scattered across the floorboards. She offered half to Marinette, her grin only widening. “Alya.”_ _  
_ _Eyes glittering with remembrance, the bluenette’s expression turned into a full-out smile, reaching from ear to ear. Her fingers closed around her half. She carefully took it away as tears began to spill from her eyes, and she played along. “Marinette.”_

“I was just lucky,” she said, a bitter tone underlying her hushed voice. Something like that—reconciliation—it might not happen next time.  _ I can’t ever tell anybody who I really am.  _ It might not happen when she  _ actually _ reveals her identity, when she actually decides not to turn back time and reverse her actions. She’d be stuck with a horrible fate.

_ Marinette sniffed, a salty drop of sadness dribbling down her cheek. She stood in front of the racing cars that shielded her view of the sidewalk that ran along the length just across the street. _

Her bangs were sprawled limply over her face, and they lowered to veil her vision.  _ I am so weak. I am as weak as that little kid. That was so naïve of me to think that everyone would just be so immediately accepting of it being me the entire time. I’m so clumsy—I can barely handle the duties I have now. I'm probably the worst person to have become Ladybug.  _ She was clumsy on a regular basis, and a lot of her plans seemed to work purely out of luck, just like how it was lucky for her to have made up with Alya. A single outcome out of a million different others.  _ It’s not my doing at all, when I get things right. It’s my power. I’m not like Ladybug in the slightest; I’m not perfect. _

_ I will never be perfect. _

The tool landed on the floor with a clatter, startling her. Her hands had gone limp at her sides a while ago, and the metal object had been slipping slowly out of her grasp. Mouth slightly parted, she stared it on the ground, and, blinking slowly, she finally decided to pick it up.

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

_ Just one more brick. _ The bluenette’s eyelids drooped and her arms ached as she shuffled mortar onto her tool before stepping onto the stool she had snatched about an hour ago to reach the higher spaces. She bit her lip in concentration as she slipped it into the margin. It slid into place with the same grinding sound she had been hearing for countless hours on end. It felt like a million, but it was only a few.

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

Ladybug leaned her forehead against the wall and just stared at it, really too tired to do much more. The cold feeling was soothing, and she sighed before glancing to the side.

There was still a hole in the wall—the door had yet to be fixed.

She lazily shifted her weight to the heels of her feet and dragged herself to stand in front of it. Her voice was dull as she called up another lucky charm; a door-installment kit landed in her hands. It even came with a door. And the bluenette wasn't really ready to handle the weight, despite the heightened strength her powers lent her. There was a huge  _ plot  _ of wood slamming against the tiled floor as she fell flat on her back, a grunt forcing its way out of her winded chest, and everything sprawled around her on the ground. Nuts and bolts and screwdrivers—they all rolled in opposite directions—but the door… that was on top of her.

Her arms trembled, the strength too far drained from her mind to will the door off of herself. She tried so hard to push the weight away, but it didn't work.

_ I’m still so weak… _

Suddenly the cumbersome object was removed—it was peeled off of her with the forceful strength of a worried parent.

The teen’s eyes widened weakly in surprise, and she took a deep breath. As she let it out, she let her head roll to the side, sensing the cold from the tile seep into her cheek.  _ I didn't even hear her footsteps coming down the stairs. _

She’d been caught.

“Ma-dybug! I mean Ladybug!” her mother said sternly, swallowing down a bit of her anger after hissing out the words. Marinette didn't know that she knew her identity, so she couldn't exactly go full-out mother-mode on her daughter. She was in her superhero form, so she should have known better than to scold her so quickly. “Honey, you didn't have to do this.”

The brunette just groaned in response, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Come on—let me help you up.” Her mom offered a hand, and Ladybug sighed before sitting up (her hair was ruffled and in disarray) and accepting the help. “We could have gotten this fixed in a jiffy,” she said, continuing with a smile. “Our family will be very grateful for what you’ve done—really, thank you so much—but you’ve got to get to sleep soon. Wouldn't want to miss a day of school, would you?” Sabine’s facial expression morphed into one of horrified epiphany at the slip-up, and she bared her teeth awkwardly as she prayed that her little Marinette wouldn't realize because of her mistake.

Dusting herself off, Marinette thought bitterly about what had just been said.  _ Liar. Why would you lie like that? We couldn’t have afforded to fix it for a while. Plus, you and dad are way too busy to take out of your time in order to patch up the damage. In the amount of days, weeks, or months it would have taken, the bakery could’ve been robbed! I couldn’t just stand by and let that happen. _ She mustered a kind expression, lifting her head to look at her mom. “Will do, mo-ahhhh’m.” Ladybug nodded ‘convincingly’ in order to back up her response.

It was a bit difficult for Sabine to stifle her humor, and a wide-toothed grin spread across her face despite her effort.

Luckily, the superheroine had already burst through the empty doorway.

Outside, dawn was beginning to peak over the horizon, and she slid heavily through the trap door and down onto her bed.

_ Ploof! _

The covers were open, so she threw them over her head and mumbled the phrase for her detransformation, and Ladybug’s suit of infinite lucky charms dissipated in a glance of lavender light. Her kwami landed on the mattress a couple centimeters from her face.

“Marinette, you’re going to be so  _ tired _ tomorrow because you stayed up so late. Or should I say ‘early’, because it is at this point. Why did you do that?”

“First, I wanna say that if you need a cookie, I have an extra one on the table at my desk. Second of all, I don't know. I just wanted to fix the problem. Standing by and doing nothing isn't exactly my thing,” she said. The feathery pillow beneath her head eased the headache she had acquired when she practically became a pancake on the floor. And let one just say that door syrup is  _ way _ too overbearing.

“Tikki—” The teen paused, a thick exhale of breath prying open her jaws and sprouting water in her tear ducts as they already began preparing their special sleep-dust formula. Her ears popped, and she wiped away the excess water with the back of her hand.

“Yes, Marinette?”

The sweet smell of brown sugar and chocolate chips wafted to her nose. But it did nothing to lift her spirits.

“Is there anything wrong with me?” she said, speaking the words into the darkness, her sheets muffling them a bit. They were pressed lightly to her lips in the way they were draped across her face and body.

“If anything, I’d say your mood. Cheer up, okay?” Tikki replied. Her tone was cheerful and uplifting.

Marinette let darkness flood her vision as she closed her drooping eyelids. “Okay,” she breathed. “Thanks, Tikki.” A lopsided smile tried to stretch across her facial features before falling limp. But suddenly her eyes snapped open.

_ How does my mom know that Ladybug goes to school? _


	8. I Can't Believe This

Marinette jerked awake to the sound of her alarm, cheek resting on her hand. It felt disgustingly damp. She twisted around to look at it, and groaned when she realized that she had drooled all over it while she was asleep.

“ _ Miraculous, simply the best, up to the test… when things go wrooo—” _

Tapping the snooze button, she grasped her pillow roughly and slammed the fluffy muffler to her face, hiding from the sunlight.

“Marinette! You have to get up right now, or else you’ll be late! No excuses!” Sabine called, her head peeking into the room.

_ Thud. _

The bluenette whined before throwing the headrest over the railing. “Ugh.” Climbing out of bed, she dragged herself down the stairs and slugged to her mirror.

White crust dipped from the corner of her lips and off to the side of her face. Some of it was still wet, and she curled her lip in disgust, only causing the eye bags underneath her dull orbs to become more visible. Her face was pale, and her hair was sticking up in all directions.  _ I look horrible. _

_ Sshhhhhhhhhhhhh. _

The water was strikingly cold as it rushed out of the faucet, but she let it wash over her skin anyways, and she lathered soap onto her hands and face, scrubbing off the dried drool. When she had finished, she stared at her reflection with an automatic frown before brushing her teeth, spitting the minty mixture into the sink and placing the toothbrush back in its holder. She slid the hair bands out of her hair before fitting them around her fingers, which then stretched to make the red bands roll down to her wrist. Suddenly she felt a few strands move on their own, and a memory flashed through her mind.

“Aaah!” she screamed. Her brush landed on her foot as her kwami dropped it in surprise, and she cursed.

Footsteps could be heard racing their way up the staircase to her room, and the voice of her mother resonated loudly from underneath the trap door, however muffled it was. 

“Marinette, is everything okay in there?”

“Everything is fine, Mom!” The teen could feel her face still flushed with color, and it was proved to be true by what the reflective glass of her vanity framed. She had remembered the time that Adrien ate her hair.  _ Well—I mean—he didn’t exactly  _ eat _ my hair. He just… sort of closed his teeth around one of my pigtails _ ? More red mounted in her cheeks.

“Okay! Tell me if you need anything!”

“Will do, Mom!”  _ Oh, shoot. That’s almost exactly what I said—kinda—to her as Ladybug.  _ The blush disappeared from her face, only to creep back up again with another memory when she placed her hand on the back of her head to tie her left ponytail, recalling also when he stroked her hair.  _ That was a bit strange. _ But the goosebumps that tickled the back of her neck said otherwise. It only further reddened her cheeks. The skin of her palm was still placed over her hair, and somehow—for some odd reason, through all the stray strands and tiny tangles—it was kind of soft. Her eyes widened as she recalled something else—something more recent.

Chat Noir’s lips against her hand. They were soft as well.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

She grumbled as the brush landed on her foot again.

__=^~^=__

The air was crisp and clear, and she could feel the sting of it on the tip of her nose. It bit her ears and sunk into any millimeter of skin it could find, taking full advantage of the fact that Marinette had not expected the weather to be so chilly. She hadn’t even bothered putting on her blazer, so her arms were completely exposed. A sneeze burst out of her nose.

Collège Françoise Dupont stood tall in front of her, looming high, but not as high as the magnificent structure that stretched far above to the right—the Eiffel Tower. The beige building of education was adorned with orange embroidery, stripes encasing swirling patterns and marking off the tops of windows. A white banner lined with red ran down the center and just barely breached the top of the double doors, to which a staircase led. The stairs were long across, their length shortening as they reached the top, and they were stout in height.

Simply walking up the front steps to her school was like wading through water. The lack of sleep definitely took a toll on every single muscle in her body, not to mention the aches and pains stemming from her arms.  _ I must have placed about a hundred or so bricks on that wall. _ It was definitely  _ not _ something that should have been done on a school night. And she wouldn’t exactly get more sleep if she turned back time, either. It would be the same her, going through the same thing.  _ I definitely do  _ not  _ want to have to go through rebuilding that again, either.  _ She paused to absentmindedly check the watch in her jean pocket, suddenly a bit curious about the time.  _ Wait.  _ ‘Re _ building that  _ again’?  _ It’s either ‘building that again’ or ‘rebuilding that’. Gosh, even my grammar is off. Bad. Not correct. I don’t know, okay? And why does it even matter right now? It’s not like anyone is lis—  _ She noticed the minute-hand winding backward ten minutes, which distracted her, and, abruptly, her whole body flew forward as her foot caught on the edge of a stair, the concrete material becoming closer and closer and closer and almost too fast for her cumbersome reflexes to act.

Adrien was striding up behind her when she fell. To say the least, it startled him, and he rushed to help her.

And, well, she was also startled, to say the least.

“Drena—I-I mean, Edion—I mean, hot stuff—A-Aaaaadrien, I mean,” she stuttered when her eyes looked up and gained the wonderful privilege to gaze upon her crush. The bluenette hardly noticed the hand he was offering until her irises had traced his face and reached his shoulder, realizing the decreasing distance the length of his arm was at as she scanned it. Her vision returned to his green eyes. “Oh—um—heheh—thank y-you!” She placed her hand atop his, cheekbones scarlet with embarrassment and self-consciousness, and he pulled her up off of the ground with no trouble.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

“You know, it’s kind of cold to just be wearing a T-shirt and jeans,” he commented.

“Uh—yeah—it’s just I—well I just sorta woke up late and I didn't really think about the weather and—”

“Want to walk to class together?”

Marinette grinned as wide as her mouth could stretch, and her ecstatic eyes glazed over with a daydream.

They might accidentally brush shoulders, their hands might accidentally touch, or he might stop to talk to her and accidentally trip over thin air and land on top of her, their lips accidentally touching. 

“Uh, Marinette?”

The bluenette mentally screamed, and her knuckles were held close to her chest as she breathed in hope funneled through frigid air.

_ Ba-dump, ba-dump. _

A crush quite possibly could spark in his mind for her. Him  _ having a crush on  _ me. _ How amazing does that sound? _

They would eat lunch in the park together, and they would laugh, and they would talk...

_ Walking with Adrien to class… Wow. _

“Marinette.”

The lovesick teen jerked herself out of her thoughts before shaking her head and smiling genuinely. “Yes, that would be,” she began, her lips widening as much as they could once again, and she finished her sentence with restricted breathing, stating, “amazing.” She was moonstruck.

Her heart was fluttering—humming, even, like a hummingbird’s wings, as she walked with the blond to class, her eyes never leaving his, which were focused forward. She decided to do the same, grin still plastered to her face.  _ I can’t wait till either Alya sees us or till I can tell her. She’ll be so happy for me. _

They entered the front doors of the school, and warmth met them with acceptance.

Her heart squeezed tighter the closer they became to their destination.

_ Thimp thump thip, thimp thump thip.  _ Both pairs of shoes fabricated sound as they hit the ground with falling footsteps in an empty hallway. Class would be starting in minutes.

The creamy walls on one side was lined with many doors, and the floor beneath was paneled with wood. It was glossy, as if it had just been waxed over the weekend. On the other side, or rather, in the center (the hallway circled a stretch of vacant black pavement—everyone seemed to be in class already or making their way there) was a basketball court. A staircase led to the library on the second floor.

Marinette’s face fell as they stepped across the threshold of their class, and Adrien continued ahead.

Mrs. Bustier’s classroom had rows of mahogany tables, each row on a different step. There were three aisles, two on either side of the desks and one running down the middle. The center aisle stairs were lined with orange carpet, and the walls on both sides of the room next to the other two aisles were plastered with oak-wood trim. There was the teacher’s desk at the front (a computer sat on edge near the corner). Behind it was a blackboard.

Juleka Couffaine (a dark haired—and very kind—goth) and Rose Lavillant (a blonde girly girl to the extreme—and she was also very kind) sat at the back of the class, and at the table next to them was Nathaniel. In the row ahead of him sat Ivan Bruel (a buff kid with a soft heart). Beside his desk was Kim Chiến Lê’s and Max Kanté’s (a dynamic duo of brawl and brain), and ahead of them was Alix Kubdel (she was an amazing athlete) and Mylène Haprèle (she was in a not-so-secret relationship with Ivan—also kind, but very frail). In front of  _ them _ was Chloé Bourgeois (a spoiled rich girl who bullied Marinette incessantly for a reason not even known to the heavens) and Sabrina Raincomprix (she was Chloé’s lackey, if anything). To the side was Nino and Adrien (Marinette’s heart fluttered once again when she saw her crush), and behind those two were Alya and—  _ Wait. What? _

Someone was sitting in her seat.

And it was Lila.

The bluenette didn't know what to think as she stopped in her tracks, facial expression limp as she watched them talking excitedly, until she finally decided to take a step. And another. And another. And another. And she maneuvered her way to her seat with a quickening pace and a pair of furrowed eyebrows, and she stood by the bench where the brunette sat, blinking.

“Also, I’m  _ sooo _ sorry about how it seemed like I was lying on my first day here. My French was horrible. Excusez-moi,” Lila said.

The ombré laughed in response.

“Hi, Alya.” She didn't dare greet the other teen. In fact, she ignored her.

Alya waved with a smile. “Hey, Mari.”

“Oh, hi, Marinette,” Lila said, twisting around in her seat to look straight at her.

Her eyes blinked, but they never moved, never even wanted to move, toward the liar.

Sensing the tension, her best friend decided to speak. “So, did you know that Lila used to live in Italy? She moved here and had to learn French, and, apparently, it was so bad that she accidentally said that she was friends with Ladybug when she meant to say she was enemies with her.”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Oh, really?” She raised a questioning brow.

“Why, do you know Ladybug personally or something?” Lila asked. Her smirk was clearly visible out of the corner of Marinette’s eye.

What wasn't visible to her, however, was Adrien’s sparked interest in their conversation.

“Well, if she did, I’d kill her for not telling me,” Alya replied.

The bluenette flinched visibly. “I-I don’t know Ladybug. Why would I know Ladybug?”  _ Why would Lila ask that? And why is her expression still so smug? Gosh, I  _ so _ want to wipe that expression off of her face. _ She glanced at the girl with a seething expression, feeling the bags under her eyes puff up as her eyelids narrowed for that single millisecond.

“Well, um, speaking of Ladybug,” Alya continued desperately, “did you see the interview on my blog?”

“Of course I d-did,” Marinette replied.  _ I hate lying. _

The ombré’s face twitched. It was like she sensed the dishonesty. And it was right then, out of any other time in the world. “Okay, then… um… What did she say when she was asked about whether she’s told her parents about her secret identity? It was kinda strange how it was an anonymous asker, though…” Her final remark was barely a mumble.

“She said that if she did, she wouldn't have been grounded for never being in the right place at the right time,” Marinette answered immediately.  _ I have to make it seem like I did. _

“Ooh, such confidence in that answer! You’d think you were the one answering the questions yourself!” Lila remarked, her voice edging on the hint of sarcastic. “Sounds a lot like your situation as well, from what I’ve heard.”

_ Gulp. _

Marinette’s eyes widened.  _ Wait. Does she…  _

“Oh my gosh, I know, right? Ooh, and did you know that she once got me an interview with Ladybug? It was in a studio and everything!”

“Oh, really?” Lila was genuinely intrigued.

_ Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! _ The bell for class to start cut through the air like a surfactant on water.

“Wait. Marinette, I forgot to ask you—do you mind sitting in  _ her _ seat today?” she asked as she gestured to the brunette sitting in front of her, whose smirk only widened. “I want to get to know Lila a bit better. I’m sorry. I promise, this is a one time thing. I don't mean anything by it, so don't take it the wrong way, okay?”

Of course, she was gonna take it the wrong way. “Sure…” Her eyes turned to Lila.

The look on that girl’s face should have been reprimanded. It was definitely an evil, smug expression—she was sure of it.

Alya was unaware of the situation, however, because she had pivoted her head to Adrien and Nino and had begun telling them something excitedly.

Marinette stared at her crush.  _ I’ll be sitting as far away as possible from him today _ . It was a wistful thought. She had planned to count the number of darker strands in his hair that day. Now, that was ruined. And not only that, but a liar was sitting next to her best friend. And her  _ best friend _ had asked her to sit somewhere else so that she could get to know that liar.  _ I don’t like how she kept questioning me about Ladybug, either. It’s making me wonder if she knows my secret identity or not. _

Lila had begun deadpanning. She blinked a couple times before opening her lying mouth. “Well? What are you waiting for? Shoo, buginette.”

_ She knows. _ The expression on Marinette’s face was one of shock.  _ How does she know? How the actual  _ heck _ did she find out? What? _ Her jaws clenched and she stormed all the way to the brunette’s seat, which was next to Nathaniel, dropping into the spot and staring straight ahead with a blank, incredulous expression on her face.  _ And I can’t  _ do _ anything about it. I don't know when or how she found out, and I don't think she plans on telling me any time soon, either. _

The entire class was silent, except for the giggling voices of her best friend and Lila talking at the front of the class. Behind Adrien.

Mrs. Bustier stood at the front of the class, impatiently tapping her foot on the wood floor. “Alya, are you done yet?”

“Hey, I was also talking,” Lila laughed.

_ Oh, so she says the truth once in a while as well, huh. Lila the Liar spoke a word that wasn’t a lie. How surprising.  _ Marinette’s eyes were narrowed, causing the lines underneath them to become a thousand times more evident. A crease had formed between her eyebrows and the corners of her lips were turned down.  _ Gosh, I must look so ugly right now. I guess I should be glad that I didn't sit behind Adrien today. He’d be disgusted and never talk to me again. _

“Alright, then.” The teacher then turned to address the whole class. “Okay, students, I’m happy to announce that our school will be having a play! It’s a fundraiser for our school, so I urge you to ask your parents...”

Marinette turned to her left to tell Alya how excited she was, only to find an empty space.  _ That’s right. I’m sitting in the back of the class. _ She turned to her right and eyed Nathaniel with an upset expression.

He was drawing Lila.

She recalled how he used to draw  _ her _ .  _ Does everybody like her now? _

The ginger noticed her staring at his work, and stubbornly moved his sketchbook away from her and stuck his forearm on the desk to shield his precious drawing from view.

Marinette blinked repeatedly.  _ Huh. _ She turned her head back to the front of the class, oddly feeling disappointed.

She noticed Alya and Lila whispering animatedly to each other, and ground her teeth together in slight rage. The bluenette glared that the backs of their heads.

_ “We aren’t friends anymore.” _

The memory sliced through her mind like a knife through hot butter.

_ What if Lila steals her away from me? She  _ knows  _ about my secret identity, and Alya mentioned how she would be pissed if I knew Ladybug and didn’t tell her. If she  _ tells  _ her who I am, that could be the end of our friendship. _

Suddenly, kids were flocking to the front of the classroom to pick cards out of a hat. There was a huge crowd of them around the teacher, with only more stampeding to join them. Even Nathaniel left and journeyed to grab one of the roles.

_ Great. I’m stuck with the last option. _ She moved to get up out of her seat, only to spot Alya congratulating Lila for getting a particular position in the play. _ I guess I’ll wait for them to leave. _

The brunette wheeled around to spot that Marinette was still in her seat. She then whispered in the ombré’s ear, who nodded and reached in the hat a second time. Lila pulled her hand away before whipping around to check if the teacher was looking or not—she was currently talking to Nathaniel.

Marinette could’ve sworn she saw a tint of red flush Lila's face.

The teen then began picking cards out of the hat and flipping them over, looking at the words on each one. When she was done, she pointed in the hat and said something to Alya, who spoke to the girl in a feigned admonishing—probably about how she shouldn’t have peeked at all of the roles—before dipping her hand in the hat again and pulling it back out—it was clutching a slip of paper. She read it, and an excited expression crossed her face. Her mouth formed the words ‘thank you’ prior to beckoning her to follow.

Lila held two thumbs up to the bluenette, looking her straight in the eyes from across the room. A smile was plastered to her face.

The two teens strode to the back of the class, and Alya spun her wrist in a bow once they reached her table, the card in her fingers drifting in a spiral. It was pressed promptly on the desk.

“Costume design. Courtesy of Lila here,” she said as she straightened up.

Lila winked, a grin still spread across her face.

_ What kind of game is she playing at? _

Mrs. Bustier spoke up from her position, and Nathaniel made his way back to his seat. He walked slowly, seemingly not in any hurry at all. “It appears as if only one costume-design card was taken. I feel horrible for the student who has to take on the role all on their own. It’s the hardest task, you know.”

A sarcastic smile smothered Marinette’s facial features, and her eyes narrowed.  _ Ah. _

“Oh my gosh, I’m  _ so _ sorry—I didn’t know,” Lila apologized.

“It’s alright. Right, Marinette? You can handle it, can’t you? I believe in you,” Alya answered.

I _ didn’t say it was alright, so  _ I _ don’t know what  _ you’re _ talking about. _ “Yeah.”

“Alright, class, sit back down. There’s still more you need to be informed of.”

Lila stared at Nathaniel, breathing in slowly and letting out a sigh before turning to the ombré.

Alya mustered a smile. “Good luck!”

The two teens walked back to their seats, bobbing down the stairs whilst exchanging small talk.

Clearing her throat to silence them once they sat down, the teacher continued telling the students about the play. “We picked the roles out of the hats so as to allow unbiased choices. If we had  _ voted _ on who would be who, the choice would have been unfair for other students in the class. Therefore, through this method, everybody had an equal chance of gaining a good role. Moving on, I’ve also been told that I am to grade you on how you perform your roles for this play…”

_ Tick tock, tick tock. _

Time was moving so  _ slowly _ , and Marinette hated it.  _ Why can’t class just be over already? _

She watched the second-hand as it  _ tick, tick, tick _ ed its way around the clock. Sixty seconds passed. One hundred and twenty. One hundred eighty. Finally, she stopped counting and simply stared at the teacher to pretend as if she were listening. The sound of a pencil sketching on paper began beside her, reminding her of Lila.

_ What is her problem? I don’t get why she has to sit next to Alya.  _ Except Alya had asked  _ her _ to sit there.  _ Why? Does she not like talking to me anymore?  _ She exhaled sharply through her nose, fuming.  _ I hate Lila. I wish she never joined our school.  _ The brunette had been totally silent for months.  _ It makes no sense for her to suddenly be social. And when did Nathaniel start drawing her? _

Mrs. Bustier’s voice rose out of the blue. “Since we don’t have much time left until the period ends, you all can have a few minutes of free time.”

It was like an entire bee-hive came to life as the classroom buzzed with chatter.

“Wait! There’s still one more thing.”

The voices shut up asynchronously as the teacher finished.

“ _ Also _ due to the lack of time, the roles will be announced tomorrow, and the writers will be picking the theme.” She raised the hat and rustled around the papers, indicating that it would be chosen through the same method as the roles.

A couple of students walked to Lila, crowding around her. They, like Marinette, seemed to be curious as to why Lila was more of an extrovert today. Chloé sent Sabrina to go find out as well. But there was another rumor circling about what she was subject to. One that Marinette definitely was  _ not _ aware of.

As a result of the questions they were asking, the brunette began to look quite grim.

But Marinette had one goal in mind. She rose from her seat and circled around her desk before she strode through the left aisle of the classroom, stopping at her best friend’s table.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Alya said, in a good mood. She was definitely oblivious to what Marinette was planning to say. “I don’t get why you have to ask me, though,” she laughed.

The bluenette took a deep breath, nostrils flaring, before beginning. “What the heck, Alya?”

The ombré was genuinely shocked. “What?”

“I thought I was clear. What the actual  _ heck _ , Alya?”

“Hey, calm down, I’m not a  _ mind _ reader, you know. What’s going on?”

Marinette was pretty angry.  _ I can’t believe she has no idea.  _ “I don't get why you like Lila so much. She’s a total liar. Even though she blames her ‘bad French’, she speaks like a native. Her accent isn’t even off.”

Alya scoffed. “ _ I _ don’t get why  _ you’re _ acting that way. Lila  _ doesn’t  _ lie. Besides, Lila is really smart and hardworking. Learning French would have probably have been a cinch for her.”

“That’s exactly my point—if learning French was apparently  _ so _ easy for her, according to you, why would she have had such bad French on the first day of school that it seemed like she was  _ lying _ ?” Marinette hissed through gritted teeth. “You’d think that  _ you _ , of all people, would be able to realize that.”

Unknown to the both of them, the class was beginning to quiet down.

The ombré was at a loss for words. Her mouth was open in shock, and she stayed that way for a while before stuttering, “Well—erm—she—Well, maybe you’re just jealous!”

Everyone in the classroom was now completely silent.

The bluenette glared at her ‘best friend’.

“Is that really what you think?” Lila asked. There was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Marinette pivoted her head around the classroom, looking around in disbelief as she saw all of them staring at her with accusational expressions. She felt trapped. None of them believed her. She opened her mouth to speak. “I—”

_ Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! _ The bell resounded through the room, signaling the end of class, and the crowd of students moved to their seats and packed up their bags. Zippers zipped and straps were thrown over shoulders as they hiked out the door.

“Don’t forget to think about your role in the play! Oh, and do the reading!” Mrs. Bustier announced to the dwindling number of people.

Alya’s disappointed eyes didn’t leave Marinette’s as she put away her pencils and her folders. “Come on. Let’s leave, Lila.” She stared at Marinette for a bit longer, her look still filled with the same letdown expression.

And then she turned and left the classroom.

“Hey, Lila, where did you get that bruise on your arm?”

“Oh—um—well, I’ll tell you about it when we get to your house…”

The voices faded as they moved farther and farther down the school hallway, and the room was empty, all except for the teacher, who was walking towards the door.

She stood in the same spot, the bluenette did, but her posture had slipped, and she was staring down, down at her seat next to Alya’s. Her expression was stoic, her cerulean eyes unblinking as she let out a shaky breath.

Everything went dark as the lights clicked off. The teacher waited at the door impatiently, watching with a slightly worried expression. But she didn’t say anything about it. “Could you hurry it up? I have somewhere to be.”

Marinette sniffed, and she dragged herself up the steps to her desk, stumbling on one of them. She fell and looked at the floor for a while after she caught herself, midnight bangs shading her vision.  _ I can’t believe I let my composure slip like that. _


	9. I Can't do Anything

Chaotic conjurings of miscellaneous materials and objects littered the pavement, stretching as far as the eye could see in either direction. Buildings stood like bystanders on either side, as if they stared down at her with discerning facades and faces configured in distant indifference to her troubles. They were shunning her. They were shunning her because she was a failure. A failure at this one, seemingly simple task. 

And the world seemed to shut down all around her as she realized once again that her time was running out. She stood in the street, midnight hair reflecting strands of light, the brightness emanating from the sun above her in rays. It was crisp, the air was, but it was the truth that it had taken too much time _again_ which was clear. Too much time she had taken to defeat the akumatizee. Too much time to defeat The Star, akumatized Chloé, to be quite exact.

The blonde called herself ‘the star of the show’, and she was adorned with a yellow shimmering dress and a pair of matching heels, her hair fluffed out in platinum curls and ringlets. She snapped, conjuring up a cage prop around the spotted superheroine. It had tubes for fire to escape from and drown the image of the person inside so that they were able to disappear without any possible audience viewing that hidden part of the spectacle. Usually the hinged door in the back was open for the actor to leave before the fire could burn them alive, but—

_Clang!_

Chloé—no, The Star—shut her only way out, giggling maliciously.

“No!” Chat Noir exclaimed for the hundredth time from the cage just a few meters away. “We can find a way out of this, I promise! It’s gonna get better, Ladybug.”

All she could do was stare at him. No words tumbled out of her mouth—only a shaky sigh.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

She knew what was coming next.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

And yet her heart still raced.

Chloé clicked her fingers again, whipping a remote control out of thin air. There was a single button on it, and it was very clear as to what it controlled.

Ladybug’s chest tightened, and her eyes wandered frantically about every corner, flickering back and forth, up and down, measuring and remeasuring the space between the bars. She’d tried so many times to squeeze through those bars, only to no avail. No weaknesses came to fruition, no matter how much she had hoped, no matter how many times she had _prayed_.

This was her tenth time restarting the day.

The Star snapped, and a cold weight enveloped Marinette’s gloved wrists. Chains. She let her arms give in, already giving up. _There’s not much more I can do, especially because in three…_

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

_Two._

_Gulp._

_One—_

The last dot on her earrings beeped out.

_This happens._

A deep breath of air invaded her lungs, and as a pink light filled the cage, the akumatizee gasped, surprised, and pressed the button in a sudden panic.

She squeezed her eyes shut and the flames engulfed her in a white-hot death-trap.

“Ladybug!”

The chains could be heard thrashing for a short time from outside before they came to a sudden, fateful stop. But the fire continued to pour out of their tubes, filling the cage and wisping off into the air in eerily-beautiful billows of red.

Chat convulsed with sobs, tears streaming from the betraying eyes that refused to tear themselves away from the spectacle.

Finally, it ceased, and the space inside the bars cleared instantly as the glow dissipated.

Marinette was flattened against the floor of the very center of the cage, half-shrunken into a ball and half sprawled out. The back of her overshirt was slightly singed, and a small swirl of smoke spiraled from it. It was, in fact, pulled over her body like a ward. A few moments passed before the heap of a girl stirred—it was merely the rising and falling of her chest: weak, at first, then almost like a gasp before her arm carried the black jacket up and off of herself in a single wave, collecting in and padding her fist as it collided with the ground beside her, and she sat up at the same time in that same motion.

The feline superhero was still bent in his confinement across from her, face buried in his hands. His shoulders jerked up and down as if he was laughing, but his scattered, harsh breathing muffled by his palms told otherwise.

The Star gawked at her, blubbering as if her father had taken away her allowance for the entire year. “Marinette?! I’m s-so _so_ sorry, I did-didn’t mean for things to end up like this!” she gushed as her mascara dribbled down her cheeks dripped off her chin, and her lower lip trembled.

Simply gazing back, eyebrows furrowed, the bluenette did not answer. _I still don’t get why she apologizes. Doesn’t she hate me?_

“Marinette?” His voice cracked as he said her name, throat still raw.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

She didn’t dare look at him—she was too scared to. His true reaction was one that she didn’t know would be. But she had realized something: how did he know her name? He must know her from somewhere. He’d spoken it so easily, as if he’d gotten used to the sound of it.

It was this which she was not ready for. The reveal of her identity. Him, especially, _knowing_ that identity. This was the obstacle she couldn’t avoid no matter how many times she turned back time. _It’s just like Master Fu told me…_

_“...be careful, Ladybug. There are some things not even time can fix.”_

“Can’t fix,” she grumbled, reaching in her pocket for the timepiece. _Time can fix anything—it’s_ time, _for Adrien’s sake. Of course it fix anything… right?_

Marinette glared at the pocketwatch, then opened it for the eleventh time that day. The panning of three sets of digits splayed out in front of her as the airflow about her stopped. They were like a hologram.

There was no noise. No other sound except for the rustling of her own movement and her own heart as it pumped. She found no need to observe her frozen surroundings, which was always a sight to see, with leaves stuck in mid-float and people posed halfway through a running step, like statues. She’d already done so the other times this battle, but she avoided letting her eyes make contact with her partner each time.

She allowed a shaky sigh to escape her lips, her heart beating faster.

_Ba-dump, ba-dump._

And she decided to turn around.

She lifted the watch as she twisted her back around to look at him. The chain trickled off it’s perch on the inside surface of her wrist, swinging back and forth as she searched his expression. Her eyebrows furrowed, eyelids squeezing shut.

_It’s indistinguishable._

She lowered her head and opened her eyes, pulling the knob at the top before twisting it left. _Lefty loosy, right?_ The digits rolled back in time, as did the hands on the device itself; the minutes clicked back the fastest, and the hours clocked back quite a bit slower. A few hours back, and finally, she stopped.

A breeze was how it started. It grew soon into a wind, its howl piercing the air, whistling; it blew her hair back. Ahead was a white light. It swept from the far reach of the city and grew and grew and grew toward her, engulfing all of her senses in one sweep when it reached her. Everything was blank.

And it stayed that way for a couple seconds. Maybe even minutes. It could have been hours. Dare she think days, or even years. Time didn't exist there. If it even was a place. It seemed to be a brief place of inexistence, almost. So did she even exist? Not generally, but at the moment. Did she cease to exist in the middle of traveling through time? Her limbs… she couldn't feel them. Everything was numb, if that was possible. It was just… nothingness. Just a mind in the middle of nowhere. Literally. But if her mind existed, if she was able to comprehend what was going around her (if she was even qualified to have a gender when her bodily-self did not exist), then was she, as a persona, in existence?

_Yes._

That had to be.

_So that explains why there isn't multiple of me when I go back in time, huh._

Tingling, her senses faded back. The world surrounded her and attacked her vision and stimulated every other nerve within her with sense.

Graphite was the first scent to reach her nose. Pencil graphite. She heard the harsh screeching of it beside her as it scratched and clawed at Nathaniel’s paper. He was only sketching, but everything was always so harsh whenever she was brought back from nothingness.

Marinette shuddered. _I don’t like the thought of not existing._ The wood of the table was cold underneath her fingertips as she placed her hands atop it.

Girls giggled at the front of the classroom. It was Chloé and Sabrina: she’d recognize the blonde’s cackling anywhere.

“Marinette!”

The bluenette nearly jumped out of her seat at the sudden mention of her name. “Yes, Mrs. Bustier?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I have called your name at least ten times already. Please move back to your regular seat.”

She realized the presence of a person standing to her left, and pivoted her head to peer up at Lila. _Lila the Liar._ Her eyes narrowed at Lila’s mocking smile that she had decided to muster.

Groaning, she rose from her spot on the bench, sliding her notebook which she had just noticed only moments ago off the desk and into her readied palm, her pencil following, and trooped back to the place where she regularly sat, being sure to bump Lila’s shoulder with her own on the way. It was a trail around half of the back of the classroom and through the middle isle (she lost her footing on one of the steps on the way down and fell, but she was fine, thanks for asking).

And then she reached Alya.

Or rather, the space beside her. Except it was all the same at the moment. The ombré stared up at her, smiling genuinely; it was clear that she had already gotten over yesterday’s skirmish. But Marinette? Not so much. Even if she _had_ repeated this moment more than once. She offered a not-so-genuine smile back, all the while a gut-wrenching feeling of guilt poking fun at her mind. Biting her lip, she placed her stationeries on the table and her bum in her seat. The air was tense as she folded her arms on the desk and observed the teacher with a feigned look of interest, and the rest was all a routine at that point.

_First, she announces to start working on the play…_

Alya removed her tablet from her backpack before zipping it shut. Fiddling with the device, she finally managed to locate the power button and pressed it harshly, and immediately the screen lit up with the school’s insignia.

_Here comes Chloé…_

The blonde stood up from her seat—her hair was up in it’s usual ponytail and she wore the usual white jeans and flats with a black-and-white striped shirt, topped off with the yellow long-sleeved jacket—before striding over to the ombré.

 _She, of course, wants to be written into the play._ Watching the two bicker, she rested her chin on her hands, staring at the blonde speak. It was so vulgar, and she was almost too animated. Maybe she was upset about something else… The bluenette pushed the thought away with a roll of her eyes. _She only gets upset over petty things._ Annoyed, she decided to actually say something this time.

“Why don’t you just pay someone to write you into the play for you?”

Both Alya and Chloé turned to look at her, wordless, their mouths open in a sort of shock. And then it finally dawned on the blonde.

“Thanks, Marinette!”

Now it was Marinette’s turn to reel back in surprise. _She’s_ thanking _me?!_ A scoff broke out in her mind. _That’s a first._

And then Chloé continued, her tone mocking, and her face was contorted in a transparently-fake look of astonishment, “That is probably the smartest thing you’ve ever said in your entire, stupid life.” She cackled before walking out of the classroom, ducking back in to quickly ask to go to the bathroom.

The teacher replied with a simple, “Okay,” without removing her gaze from the computer, continuing to type with a _tip-tip-tapping_ rhythm, her fingers pressing the keys as if they were the sort of keys one would find on a piano. As if she was playing an instrument.

She didn’t know why, but it looked as if she was a musician of words. Why that happened to appear in her head? Well, again, she did not know.

What she also didn’t know was how Alya, who’d quickly made sure she was okay after the blondé’s bullying—which was ‘completely uncalled for’, as she put it (Marinette agreed)—was supposed to cope with Chloé being her writing partner for the play. Yes, it was the role she’d catastrophically picked from the hat.

The blond sitting in front of her, however, had pulled a hero card. Marinette sighed, a blush rising in her cheeks, and brought her hands over her face and peeked through a gap in her fingers at her crush. _He’s a hero to me._ The edges of her smile reached past the cover of her palms, and something miraculous happened.

Adrien spoke to her.

“Hey, Marinette, what’s making you so happy?”

She felt like she was going to die. O-of happiness, of course. Definitely not anything else. No. The red mounting in her face was becoming so intense that she almost screamed. _Oh, wait, he spoke._ Marinette tried to dial down her smile, and she was able to, but it was only for a millisecond after she peered out of cover. And then it spread from ear to ear once again as her breath caught in her throat upon looking into those green eyes. _Did he-who-him ask what makes me happy?_ She only had one answer.

“You.”

Adrien froze for a second.

“Youuuu, yooouuuuuu,” she began, dragging out the word as she searched her thoughts for any sort of word to take the previous one’s place, before hissing out of the corner of her lips to Alya, “Alya, help me!”

The ombré spoke, at first, with a slight stutter, for she was unsure of what to say. “She’s happy about yoouu… topia! It’s a new movie that’s supposed to come out soon!”

Marinette nodded in order to back her up. It was all she could do when her mouth was stuck like that of a fangirl’s. And right then she was shipping herself and him. A whole lot. A whole whopping lot.

“Hey, how about we all go see it,” Nino suggested. He was turned around in his seat just like Adrien.

“Yeah, maybe Lila can come as well,” Alya added.

And that’s when she saw it. A flicker of unease in his eyes: in Adrien’s eyes. But it was there. It had to be. Inevitably, it had disappeared right after. _Does he know that Lila is a liar as well?_

“Sure,” he said. His tone was definitely not uneasy.

So did she imagine it?

Also, she was expecting a crash right about… She pivoted her head to observe the second hand on the clock. … _3… 2… 1…_

Silence.

 _What? How—_ She turned as the blond spoke again.

“Alya, how about you look up what times it plays?” Adrien asked, before saying, “I have to make sure it doesn’t interfere with my photoshoot schedule, or else the chance of my dad saying yes will go like this—” He put his hand in the air, angling it in a way that it seemed like the top of a bar on a graph, and lowered it until it slammed against the table.

At the back of the classroom and out of sight, Lila flinched.

The ombré turned to her friend incredulously, and the bluenette mirrored her expression; except it had an entirely different meaning behind it.

_There should have been an akuma attack._

Chloé walked back into the room (not akumatized) as Alya turned to the screen before her and hesitated for a second, finally deciding to type in the name of the so-called movie. Her eyes widened as she witnessed the search results, and she leaned over to share the news with Marinette, whispering and using the tablet as a shield. “They actually have a movie called Utopia playing right now.” She laughed triumphantly, almost disbelievingly. “Quite lucky, are we? You get to see a movie with Adrien and we don’t end up seeming like…”

Marinette’s eyes glazed over as she caught the stupid word with her ears. _Lucky. It’s always luck, isn’t it? I can’t seem to do anything on my own._

“Hey! Aren’t you happy?” her friend spoke harshly in order to get the point across, still keeping her voice down.

 _I’m so wea—_ Jerking out of her thoughts, she stumbled over her words. “Wha—who—where—whaaaa?”

“You get to see a movie with Adrien!”

The negative thoughts dissipated, and a smile she couldn’t control grew on her face.

“What’re you looking at, supernerds?” an obnoxious voice spoke from the left.

_Chloé._

“Not anything a regular civilian like you would understand,” said Alya as she played along, making sure to turn her tablet to face the desk. There was a regular hint of hostility in her eyes.

A terse taken-aback look crossed Chloé’s face, and Marinette smirked. The expression disappeared, however, before she could be sure that it was really there.

“Well, _I’m_ Chloé Bourgeois. I’m not any _regular_ citizen,” she snapped.

“Less than regular, then,” Marinette replied, the words naturally rolling off of her tongue.

The blonde scoffed. “Just let me see what’s on the tablet.”

“Why do you care so much?” Alya asked.

“Girls, girls, settle down. And Alya, please stay on task. I can see everyone’s search history when they’re using a school tablet, you know,” Mrs. Bustier spoke from the front of the class.

Taking the moment of distraction, the obnoxious teen snatched the device and scanned the screen. “Planning to watch a movie, I see. My Adrikins better not be coming along with you,” she commented, pouting.

“I am coming along, Chloé. And you’re not invited,” Adrien stated.

“I heard that I’m coming along as well,” said a voice to the bluenette’s right.

She looked up to spot Lila, on whose face a smile spread as she turned to Marinette, except it seemed more like a leer than a smile.

“Didn’t I say to stay on task? Get back to work!” the teacher demanded as she raised her voice.

“You’re definitely joining us,” Alya said, Marinette turning to her in shock before she continued with a giggle, “Now shoo before you get into trouble.” 

Lila strode back to her seat.

The ombré moved her head to look at Mari. “Isn’t she the best?”

Instantly, she deadpanned. It was her reflex reaction, after all. She then covered it up with a facade of content, forcing a smile in an attempt to convince her friend. “Totally!”

__=^~^=__

She was bent over her homework, sitting at the chair at her desk with furrowed eyebrows when a notification popped up on her phone, the device vibrating. Picking it up, she unlocked her phone (her lock-screen was of Adrien, of course) and opened up the messaging app, reading the text quietly in her mind.

_Alya: hey mari!_

The light emanating from the pixels illuminated her face. Her room was a bit dark at the moment, except for the gleam of her lamp somewhere behind her and the radiance of her computer screen. She tapped the digital keyboard with a single thumb, hunting and picking for the letters.

 _Marinette: hey!_ (r)

Dots indicating that Alya was typing appeared at the bottom, above the empty bar.

_Alya: ugh. i still cant believe that i have to write the play with her._

Marinette replied.

 _Marinette: ikr i cant believe ti either_ (r)

 _Marinette: *it_ (r)

Her phone buzzed as she received another text from her friend.

_Alya: so, u excited to see the play with mr dream guy?_

She paused. Knowing that she probably should avoid the topic so as to not start up another fight with her best friend, she decided to voice her thoughts anyways.

 _Marinette: is lila the liar coming?_ (r)

_Alya: …_

_Alya: i knew there was something off about you today_

_Alya: at first i just thought u were just tired like you were yesterday on the phone_

A gulp pierced the silence in the room. _I was tired, I admit, but I was upset then as well. Why wouldn’t I have been?_

 _Marinette: im sorry :c_ (r)

Suddenly, the texts rolled onto the chat faster.

_Alya: no_

_Alya: your not sorry_

_Alya: you wont even give her a chance_

_Alya: i dont even understand why youre so adimant about her being a lier_

_Alya: *adamant *liar_

Marinette breathed in a shaky breath. The room was cold, but there was more to it than that. _How do I reply to this? I don’t want her to hate me._ “Tikki?”

Her kwami flew into view out of nowhere. “Yes, Marinette?”

“What should I say? Alya seems upset, and I don’t want to upset her even more.”

Without even looking at the screen, Tikki gave her advice. “I always say to be honest. Hiding secrets is never a good thing. E-except for your secret identity, of course,” she stammered as she corrected herself.

Licking her lips, she offered a grateful smile. “Thanks, Tikki. You always know what to do.”

The bluenette turned back to her phone with a bit of hesitation after nuzzling her adorable little ladybug friend, who flew back to whence she came from, and finally texted back.

 _Marinette: i still don’t get why you trust her_ (r)

_Alya: you hate her._

_Marinette: woah, such a strong thing to say. what makes you say that?_ (r)

_Alya: when you hate someone, everything they say or do is offensive_

_Alya: and that seems to me like how you’re regarding her atm_

_Marinette: wiat_ (r)

_Alya: and i know you didnt check my blog_

_Marinette: *wait_ (r)

_Alya: you never check my blog._

_Alya: it was so embarrassing to just be sitting there knowing that my own BEST FRIEND didn’t check my blog when someone ive barely met has been looking at it since they came to paris, practically_

_Alya: that my BEST FRIEND doesn’t support it_

_Marinette: …_ (r)

 _Marinette: how long have you known?_ (r)

_Alya: months._

_Alya: I’m just… i’m so disappointed in you marinette .-._

She leaned back in her seat and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. _She’s right. I’ve been a horrible best friend lately. But she has to know the truth._

 _Marinette: i still cant comprehend the fact that youre choosing HER side over MINE._ (r)

 _Marinette: we’re BEST FRIENDS, Alya_ (r)

 _Marinette: …_ (r)

 _Marinette: right?_ (r)

There was no answer.


End file.
